


It's OK

by DeetsViBre



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A little Gender Dysphoria, Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Lance, Canon Divergent, Character study with a plot, Complements, Cuban Lance, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fist Bump, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Galra Keith, Gay Keith, Gender norms are broken, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk can’t handle all of Lance's problems, Hunk is a good friend, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith and Lance are kinda bad ass eventually, Kissing, Knitting, Lance (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Lance Angst, Lance has a bit of the ‘I can’t do it until someone else can’t do it more’ syndrome, Lance is a leader, Lance is friends with everyone, Lance's family - Freeform, Lance’s childhood, Leader lance, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mind Meld, Nicknames, Panic Attacks, Piercings, Pining, SUPER AU as of the 2018 Comic Con Pannel, Season 2 compliant, Secret Relationship, Shame, Slow Burn, Smut, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Stranded, Tattoos, They found Shiro, This series is AU as of Season 3 release, Touch Starved Keith, Voltron bond, abstract description of being suicidal, awkward boys, but that's OK because he's human, combining words to make new words, hunk is an angel, klance, lance is a mess, learning to love yourself, light body dysphoria, like super slow, lotor is mentioned, self hate, shallura - Freeform, supportive allura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 147,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeetsViBre/pseuds/DeetsViBre
Summary: Rewriting yourself cost something, a deep pain with every edit. Lance had been trying to change for a long time.When Keith walks in on Hunk and Lance talking late into the night, things begin to change. A bond is formed between Keith and Lance, and becomes something they hadn't expected. Can they navigate their new relationship, and keep it all a secret from their team?Aka Lance is not Ok, has a huge crush on Keith, and suddenly gets a chance to do something about it. Oh, but wait, first he has to try and stay alive in the cold vacuum of space.Some tags left out for plot reasons. Upped the rating for content in part 5.





	1. Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 is preklance. Lance is struggling with his own self image and ongoing anxiety. Hunk is there for him, but buckling under the strain. Lance finds unexpected help when he talks to Keith.

**Part 1 - Mirrors**

 

Lance looked at his reflection in the mirror. He had been in the en suite bathroom for a long time, as he tried to reconcile with his own reflection. He smiled, and it was displaced. A cobbled together group of features, all from the wrong puzzle box, that’s what he was made of. His mother’s eyes under his father’s brow, his lips were full like his mother’s but shaped like his father’s, they didn’t work well together.

He stroked the pad of his finger down his cheek. Lance could see his sisters in himself, but they were more carefully constructed than him. Each of their features was plucked with care from their parents, and seamlessly organized. When they smiled, their mouths formed a graceful shape, their cheeks moved appropriately, and their appearance was whole; every bit of them complemented every other bit. They were well thought out mosaics.

Lance pressed the palm of his hand where his finger had been, his skin was dry. He reached for the face cream and unscrewed the top. Maybe this time when he rubbed it in, everything would blend together. Slowly he spread the cream over the bridge of his nose, under his eyes, down to his chin, and every single part struck an off key note. He tried to relax his tense jaw, and furrowed brows, to bring together the notes of his song. But his mouth was flat and out of sync, the color of his lips was a pitch to high, and didn’t harmonize with his skin tone.

The thud of the cream jar as it met the counter, rippled through the silence of the bathroom, sharp like his irritation. Lance leaned over the counter closer to the mirror, breathed in, and then slowly out. He locked eyes with himself, and thought about how his oldest sister’s upturned lips complemented her applecheeks. He tried smiled like her; but it was a twig, bent and straining, anymore force would snap it.

Everything collapsed, his mouth didn’t belong, his face just squished weirdly when he smiled. Lance made and even uglier face when frustrated tears brim his lashes. He pushed away from the counter with a jerked movement, and slapped the useless cream with a lashing swing of his arm.

The crack of it colliding with the wall was satisfying, and it helped quell the hatred, caustic and sour, that turned inward more often than any other direction. When the acidic loathing drained away, it left a dry riverbed. The same one it had been carving through Lance his entire life, slowly eroding with each pass.

He didn’t know what he was feeling anymore, and so he sighed.

Lance left the bathroom.

The earth smartphone on his dresser -that Pidge magically found a way to charge- told him it was time for bed, he would need to be rested before the mission.

He would need his sleep, so he would have the strength to lift his blanket of confidence. Every year it became heavier, as another layer was woven into the linen that hid his insecurities, and sometimes his arms became too tired to lift it around himself.

The last thing he needed was to drop his shroud while he was trapped in space for an unforeseen amount of time.

Lance pulled his bedding up around his shoulders, and let himself drift.

**

The morning came, as bright, and synthetic as always.

Lance tumbled to the bathroom, practically a baby deer this early in the morning. His eyes glanced over his own reflection long enough complete his extensive morning rituals, never once did his sight stray to the cracked jar on the floor.

When he was finished he left for breakfast.

Voices skittered off the walls to meet Lance in the hallway as he approached the kitchen. He was often the last person to arrive due to his beauty regimen. He washed his face twice to stop the burning in his chest, and used three different creams to blend his face, one that he washed off before the other two. Then he brushed, flossed, and rinsed, before he put his hair in order, all of this to keep the walls around his lungs from closing in.

The kitchen door swished open to grant Lance access. He sauntered in as he usually did, letting everyone know he was not concerned about being last, he really wasn’t. Having a large family made being last to get someplace, or do something, a fact of life.

Everyone looked at Lance when he entered, and he became a lizard basking in their light as he walked to his usual seat. This act was the furthest from the truth. He wanted to hide behind someone brighter than him, as most people were. Being from a large family made it easy to duck down and go unnoticed when he wanted, but ever since he entered the Garrison, he had an unsettling number of eyes directed at him. He handled his new situation the way he handled his dislike of his own appearance, he lied.

If everyone believed he loved the attention he was less likely to get it, if they thought he loved his appearance then their eyes wouldn’t linger to long. No one liked to feed an ego.

Lance took his seat and began eating without comment.

“Today’s mission will hopefully be an easy one,” Shiro spoke to the room in general, his gravitational pull on the team as strong as always.

Lance glanced at their leader, still a beacon of light, despite his newly acquired rough edges. His second imprisonment by the Galra was visible in the dark smudges under his eyes, and the way he held his shoulders. It had only been two weeks since they rescued him, and he had yet to say a word about his experiences while captured.

Every one of the room’s occupants was weighed down by guilt, each one of them taking on the blame for the month Shiro spent with the enemy. Lance could see his own guilt reflected back at him, every time any of them looked at Shiro. If they had been a little faster, a little smarter, a little more collected and calm, then maybe Shiro could have pulled his shoulders back a little more.

Shiro’s briefing floated around Lance’s head, something about the planet they were going to today, but he let the words flow past him, and used this time to turn off. It was a rare moment where he wasn’t expected to speak or smile. He always needs to be ‘on’ since becoming a Voltron paladin. There were only seven people on the ship, always together, training, eating or ‘bonding’, so he couldn’t slide between the cracks if he needed to.

A sigh escaped Lance as he lazily glanced around the table. He stopped when his eyes met Allura’s, she was looking right at him, and he noticed the concerned crease of her forehead, or what looked like concern, but Lance had trouble believing that it was. Either way he wasn’t in the mood for extra attention, he smirked at her the way he usually did when he was flirting, and she immediately looked away. Lance wasn’t sure if he was glad it worked, or hurt that it was so easy to dissuade her worry.

“Hey buddy,” Hunk whispered from Lances left. “you should eat, the briefing is almost over.”

Lance knew he was right, Shiro’s tone was winding down and everyone else had finished their goo. Hunk was looking at him expectantly, a mess of concern, always worried about how hard he should push at moments like this. Lance smiled at him, crooked and strained, a poor attempt to smooth down Hunk’s frayed edges.

“I’m not hungry, it’s OK.”

Hunk looked skeptical, and rightfully so. He grew up with Lance, and was the only person to witness him completely exposed; it allowed him the ability to see all the loose threads Lance tried to hide. But it was OK, Hunk was a welcomed crutch during the rough times.

**

The silence of exhaustion settled over the table, it was a film of humidity, sticking to every person present. The mission had gone as well as Lance could have hoped, everyone was alive, in one piece, and another planet was released from the Glara’s grasp. With Zarkon gone, all they did was go to Galra controlled planets, free them, and try to form an alliance. This one, just like every mission, was draining and violent, bringing everyone's worst feelings to the front of their minds.

Lance looked around. Pidge ate slowly with a wrinkle between their brows, probably wondering where the rebels that took their brother were hiding. Hunk was worn, the fighting always seemed to take a part of him when the dust settled.  Allura and Coran shared an identical expression after every mission, a mix between the thrill of victory, and the realization that none of this would bring their people back. Shiro was the hardest to look at, his eyes far away, in a terrible place that held him captive with every flashback.

And then there was Keith… Lance lingered on the red paladin's face. He was well put together, everything about him harmonized, he was symmetrical. His features blended together into a pleasing image, and he wasn’t even entirely human... it wasn’t fair.  Jealousy, acidic and ugly, rolled in Lance's chest. It flowed through the well worn path left by his self hatred, eroding just a little bit more of him away. It only lasted a moment, because Keith sighed, and the jealousy was washed away by a different feeling, warmer, but terrifying.

The sigh was silent; a slightly larger breath through Keith’s nose, just a bit slower, and his shoulders dropped. Lance could tell that sharp, and dangerous thoughts, were rolling around in Keith’s mind when the skin around his eyes tightened.  The different and scary feeling settled in Lance's chest as he watched, it was warm water that ebbed and flowed with Keith. He wanted to help.

“What?”

Keith had noticed Lance staring.

An exhilarating rush curled up from Lances lances toes to meet the warm fear in his chest.

“Nothing, mullet.”

Lance looked down at his food and began to take his first bite, ignoring his rapid heart beat.

Staring at his friends wasn’t going to make anything better. His outward show of confidence helped him cope and kept people from looking too close, but his rambunctiousness and general goofball attitude were genuine. Sometimes he just had too much energy, scalding water would rush through him, just under his skin, and he needed to talk or move. He tried to always focused his silly actions on helping his friends, he would cheer them up, direct attention away from them if needed, or simply break the tension.

Lance leaned over the table in Alluras direction, “Hey, Princess.”

Allura looked up from her food and frowned at Lance’s wiggling eyebrows.

“I didn't get my morning kiss,” Lance made an exaggerated kissy face.

Allura deigned a response to his kissy face because he wouldn’t stop until she did.

“Good Morning, Lance.”

The kissy face fell away, replaced by an equally exaggerated frown.

Groans sounded all around the table. Lance smiled and shrugged with an air of ‘better luck next time.’ He secretly took joy in each exasperated face that was layered over a tinge of amusement. He glanced back at Allura to see her amused smile, but instead she looked worried, it was only for a moment, and then it fell away and she smiled at him. Lance shrugged it off.

Chatter fluttered around the table, shoulders relaxed and eyes became brighter. Lance felt his mood improving with every bit of tension that slipped away from his companions. He wasn’t very good at much, but he hoped that moments like this kept him a part of team Voltron.

Lance secreted a peek at Keith. He was looking down at his food while Pidge rambled at him; the column of his neck was exposed and the muscles were relaxed and soft. Lance trailed his eyes down the smooth white skin until it met the collar of Keith’s black shirt.

Lance swallowed to wet his dry throat and looked away.

The warm water in his chest had begun to trickle downward, looking at Keith to long always did that to him.

**

The lights of the castle dimmed for the night cycle. Lance walked down the hallway past his bedroom, he couldn’t stop because sitting still was not an option. His skin was covered in ants, every movement caused them to scatter, but if he was still they would bite at him. His chest was an overinflated balloon that every moment threatened to burst, waiting for the POP made his body taut, and no matter how much he anticipated it, he was always surprised.

There wasn’t enough room in his chest for his lungs, his breaths were shallow as he walked his patrol around the castle.

Hunk was in the kitchen.

Shiro was in his bedroom.

Pidge was in their workshop.

Keith was on the training deck.

Allura was in the control room.

Coran was in the pod room.

Lance waited for the slow leak of pressure that usually came with every teammates confirmed location and well being, but it didn't happen this time. A sharp needle of fear pierced his chest, it inched closer to his anxiety.

He walked around the castle again.

Hunk was in the kitchen.

Shiro was in his bedroom.

Pidge was in their workshop.

Keith was on the training deck.

Allura was in the control room.

Coran had joined Allura in the control room.

Still no relief, Lance made a third and then fourth pass. It wasn’t helping like it normally did, if anything his coping strategy failing was making him panic. On his fifth pass everyone was in bed, except Hunk was in the kitchen, and Keith was on the training deck.

Lance tried to distract himself, he made a mental note to mention to Shiro that Keith was over taining again. He wouldn't say it outright, but he would find a roundabout and insulting (to Keith) way to let their leader know. He tried to script what he would say in his head, but his mind was foggy, and he was short of breath.

All he could think about was how Keith had almost trained himself to death while Shiro was gone. Lance hadn’t done anything about it then, and he regretted it. Maybe it was a mixture of anger, jealousy and fear, that had kept him from dragging the Red Paladin kicking and screaming from the training deck. He had been so scared when Shiro was gone, and he redirected it at Keith as anger, but he was also afraid because he didn't want to show he cared, terrified of someone finding out how much he liked Keith. He could imagine the hate and disgust that would be thrown at him if anyone knew, because the same hate flowed through him at times like this.

He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again, he couldn’t make any more mistakes. He would keep an eye on everybody, quietly, while still maintaining their team balance.  This reasoning is why his patrol normally helped alleviate his anxiety, but tonight it wasn’t working.

When he got to his bedroom door again he entered.

He should go to bed, but he looked at the bathroom. If he didn't do his routine it would make him anxious, but if he looked in the mirror… it could be worse.

Lance looked at his bed, it would be OK if he just went to sleep. Despite his thoughts and his reasoning, Lance went into the bathroom, he picked up the cracked jar of face cream, and looked in the mirror.

 

**

Lance first became aware of himself in a mirror. His reality clashed with his imagination.

It was one of his first clear memories. It started with his sister, who was a little less than twelve years older than him.

She was in her room, sitting at her vanity, and he was in the doorway behind her. The long grain carpet was rough beneath his bare feet, its original color lost to time and traffic. The metal bar that ended the hallway and began the bedroom, was cold where it pressed into the skin of his arches.

His sister picked up one mysterious container after another, white creams that she rubbed into her face, and tan ones that she dotted here and there. He watched as she painted her face smooth. she widened her eyes by drawing around them, and turned her lips to rose petals. With or without the makeup, he thought his sister was perfect; a painting that someone spent hours on, placing each stroke of their brush just right.

Her eyes caught his reflection, he backed up a step, his other sisters hated him being in their room.

Maritza smiled; it was a blooming rose.

“Está bien. Come here, Lance.”

He slowly entered the room, he never got to spend much time in here. It smelled like apples, he liked it.

When he was at her side Maritza lifted him onto her lap.

“Did you want to help your big sister?” She asked.

Lance basked in the attention and nodded. There was an array of items spread across the vanity, he had no idea what any of them did. Maritza picked up a brush and began sweeping it over his face, first on his forehead, his cheeks and then the tip of his nose. it was soft and tickled, he giggled and squirmed.

“Done!” Maritza announced as she pulled the brush away.

“Look at you, Lance! Eres muy hermosa.” Maritza placed her chin on top of his head.

Lance looked into the mirror, and even while on his sister's lap he could barely see his entire face.

What he saw disappointed him.

He was four years old.

**

Lance looked into the mirror at nineteen years old.

What he saw disappointed him.

He turned the cracked jar of face cream in his hand, regretfully.

How long had he been in the bathroom? he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his mouth, his brows, his nose. all of them a little too big, or too small. His pores on his cheeks were visible, and the end of his nose was a funny shape. He was disjointed.

A familiar burning filled his chest, he took a deep breath to release the heat, but it didn’t help. Scorching water flowed under his skin and filled his lungs, he took another deep breath to no avail. He was drowning. He gulped air, faster. It still burned, he had to breathe faster, faster, even faster.

Lance gripped the sink’s edge, his head dropped, as his back heaved with every, quick, desperate gasp.

What was wrong with him? why couldn’t he control this? He wasn’t stupid, he was aware of what was happening, that he was coming apart in a fit of useless panic- because he was useless.

His body was dissolving in a flood of anger, frustration and disgust. His woven confidence was sodden with it, heavy and cumbersome, it dragged him down further into the waters of his anxiety, but he refused to let go. Flailing arms strained for the surface, but it was out of reach, and the light began to dim as he descended.

Lance’s knees hit the cold tiles of the floor. His stomach churned, and his throat burned with bile; those were the only physical sensations he had left. The white bathroom ceiling started to gray at the edges, and he could only hear a high keening that came from nowhere.

Lance was going to vomit, he didn’t want to. His own quick breaths were making it worse, creating a frothy blend of acid and hate. He sat back and pulled his knees to his chest to hold it in, as his stomach cramped, and squeezed.

Someone knocked at his door.

“Lance?” It was Hunk.

The doors on the ship only locked and unlocked for Alteans. The humans on the ship had limited control over the technology, but Hunk didn’t enter, the team tried to respect each other space.

Lance was afraid that if he didn't say something his friend would come in out of worry, and he didn't want that. Lance couldn’t be seen like this, he couldn’t do that to Hunk, his closest friend who had been there through the hardest times. Lance didn’t want to disappoint him… again.

He tried to respond, but opening his mouth was a mistake.

All of the pressure that had built up inside Lance, rushed to escape. He slapped his hand over his mouth and scrambled across the slippery floor to the toilet. He retched, and sour foam was all that came up. The searing pain in his lungs radiated through him. He tried to breathe, but his body was still heaving. he choked on the foam, coughing violently, as his sinuses burned.

The sound of the door opening and closing hardly registered, but a large warm hand on Lance’s back let him know that Hunk had heard him being sick. He was still gagging, and more foam came up, but Hunk didn’t say anything, he just rubbed soothing circles and waited.

Spit and tears dripped from Lance's face. He panted, still leaned over the toilet.

He didn't want to look at Hunk.

This time, a swell of regret, and shame, rose from Lance’s stomach, and it left his mouth as a small, shuddering sob. He couldn't stop the trembling, airy, and almost silent cries that followed, but he still refused to move. His face was distorted as he cried, and he didn’t want anyone to see him so ugly.

The warm hand on Lance's back moved, and Hunk gently grabbed him on either side of his chest. Lance didn’t fight it when Hunk pulled him backwards, he was so tired. His back was against Hunk's front, large comforting arms wound around him, as Hunk sat them both on the floor against the wall.

Lance was hollowed out, and swept clean. He sighed into the silence.

“I was doing so much better.”

Hunk’s arms tightened, but he didn’t respond.

Lance would have been frustrated by the setback if he was capable of feeling anything, but his mind was an empty chamber, as it alway was after an attack.

He had gained a handle on his anxiety and depression, it had started when he was young and got worse as he got older, When he was fourteen he hit a breaking point, it was the worst day of his life.

But he had eventually improved. He was self aware, and could tell when he was slipping. He knew when he needed support or solitude, and could regulate himself. The last time anyone had to hold him like this was when he was sixteen, and it had been Hunk back then as well. He was a person that needed social bonds, loved them, but feared that people would hate who he really was. So he built a persona, but it got heavier the longer he held it.

He really had been doing better, before Voltron, and being stuck in space, trapped in a spaceship castle… But that wasn’t completely true, it had started at the Garrison.

His previously large support system had shrunk down to only Hunk. His coping strategy of overconfidence swelled by ten fold while he was surrounded by so many people outside his circle, and at the Garrison it was almost all the time.

While he was there he didn’t speak spanish, his native language that grounded him. It would draw too much attention, and he wanted to fit in. He still didn’t speak it in front of anyone except Hunk, with no one who could speak it in the castle, he felt uncomfortable.

He also kept his sexuality to himself while attending the Garrison. it wasn’t against the rules, but it made life in a military school harder. The stigma that was ingrained in the social institution was archaic, but no less real. As a part of Voltron he had no idea how to handle the topic, and so he continued as if he still had to hide it.

Hunk was the only person that knew he was bi, his friend kept the fact secret and Lance had one more thing he felt the need to compensate for.

Everything had started to crumble when he left home, and then became dust when he joined Volton. He thought he could handle it, but he was put into situations he wasn’t prepared for, and confronted with emotions he had never dealt with. He was separated from the things that gave him sense of self, and was forced to recognize that he didn’t know who he was without them. He didn’t know much about himself at all… and since coming to space, had done things he didn’t think himself capable of...

All he knew for sure, was what his anxiety whispered to him, it told him that he was put together wrong, was useless, and a burden. He was full of fear, uncertainty, and hate, but under all of it, he wanted to prove himself, be accepted, and maybe even love himself. If only he could reach out for help.

He kept it all inside, he didn’t want to pile it on Hunk… that had certainly worked out well.

He let his head fall back onto Hunks shoulder and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispered.

Hunk blew out a breath onto Lance’s shoulder, “It’s OK, I think I needed this too.”

To reinforce the sentiment Hunk squeezed his friend again.

A string of guilt wound around Lance’s heart, and the emotion echoed in all the empty space inside him.

Hunk had his own problems, some similar to Lance’s, and had been keeping them to himself.

“Have you been staring in the mirror again?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah…”

A beat of silence.

“Have you been creating worse case scenario plans late into the night again?” Lance countered.

Hunk laughed nervously, “Maybe…”

With clarity that could only be obtained in the aftermath of a panic attack, Lance knew that both he and Hunk were guilty of the same crime. Each of them afraid of burdening the other with their issues, but it was time to take another path.

Lance hugged the arms around his chest, “I’ll take half of your baggage, if you take half of mine?”

Hunk chuckled around his reply, “Deal.”

***

Three weeks went by without another break down, but those weeks had their ups and downs. Many mornings Lance would wake up feeling in control. He had Hunk to thanks for his progress, he was a rock in the river rapids for Lance to cling onto. But some mornings Lance would open his eyes, and his body would be tense, his skin would feel hot, and his lungs would be on fire. None of his rituals would ease the pain, and he would begin to sink into depression and anxiety for the rest of the day.

On those days he knew that Hunk couldn’t bear the weight alone, he had his own issues, and Lance needed more than his friend could offer.

It was one of those bad mornings that lead into a bad evening, which brought Lance and Hunk together on the observation deck. It was about 7PM, according the the 24 hour schedule that had been set up to regulate the teams circadian rhythm. The Alteans didn’t completely understand the Human’s need for a night and day cycle. According to Coran, Altea was in a two sun solar system, the planets suns were far enough apart so that every side of Altea was lit up by some amount of daylight. Sometimes bright and sometimes dim.

Coran had described in great detail, the time of year when one sun always set when the other was rising, and how much he missed the sight of it. The older man’s voice strained, tight as a bow string, and then he stared out into space with a sad, wistful expression. Lance couldn’t bring himself to talk Coran about his own home sickness again after that conversation, it was like whining about nothing, to someone who lost everything.

“Hey, stop whatever you are thinking, I can feel your depressy-ish aura,” Hunks voice was heavy, and smoothing. He threw an arm around Lance’s shoulders, “and don’t tell me you're not thinking sad things, I can tell when you’re doing it.”

Lance snorted. Hunk always laid the truth bare so flippantly. He loved that about his friend..

He wasn't surprised Hunk could tell what he was thinking, sometimes it felt like their weird mind-melding-Voltron-thing was happening all the time between them.

“Listen…” Hunk trailed off for a tick.

Lance waited, the rounded corners of Hunks personality soothed his boiling anxiety.

Hunk began speaking again, quieter than normal. “I know we’ve been doing better, and overall you’ve been better but-”

“Yeah, but I’m still-” Lance cut in.

“Yeah,” Hunk interrupted.

Lance knew what Hunk was getting at, and he understood. They were becoming codependent… and it wasn’t solving their problems. Hunk had been spending more time with Pidge working on tech projects, breaking his dependency, also having a hobby was helping him stay calm. Lance was scared, because he didn’t feel like he could open up to any of the others on the team the way he did with Hunk, and he didn't think he had anything in common with any of them. But he also didn’t want Hunk to feel responsible.

“I think, if I find a hobby or two… maybe I won’t dwell on the bad stuff so much.”

Hunk pulled Lance a little closer in a one arm hug, “Sounds good. You know I will always be here for you? But I think you need more than just me, and hobbies, try and reach out to someone.”

Lance didn’t respond. the walls around his lungs were closing in, he knew it was stupid to feel hurt. he logically understood that Hunk couldn’t fix all his problems, or shoulder all his emotional baggage forever. Lance had to find some alternative coping mechanisms, and Hunk would always be there… but the air was still rushing out of him faster than he could breathe it in.

He tried to focus on the vastness of space that was just beyond the floor to ceiling window, instead he ended up looking at his own reflection against the black backdrop. his critically assessed his own reflection. Anxiety, that was watery and hot, began creeping up, it threatened to drown him. His breathing was fast, and heavy, he was sure Hunk could feel it.

“Lance.”

Hunks wielded his name like a sharp point, it punctured Lance, and the water began to slip away. His body cooled, and his lungs expanded. Lance watched his reflection relax, and was reminded of something he always wanted to do but never had the courage. It was something that seemed so small and inconsequential now that he was in space, and saving the known universe, but he thought it might help his self-esteem.    

He looked up at Hunk and then back at his reflection, “I think, I’m going to stop cutting my hair.”  

“Haven’t you always wanted to grow it out anyway?” Hunk asked.

Lance ran his hand through his short hair, “yeah, and now that I’m in space, it seems stupid not to.”

Hunk ruffled Lance’s hair with the same hand that was over his shoulders, “I think that's a great Idea.”

Lance laughed and batted the hand away.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Lance basked in the calm waters that the moment afforded him. They faced the viewing window, sitting on a long, white couch with their backs to the door. He ran his hand over the material and wondered if it was plastic, it felt like pleather.

Hunk leaned to the side and nudged Lance's shoulder with his own, “Talk about earth, but in spanish.”

Lance side eyed him, “Why?” his tone was skeptical. Hunk knew very little spanish.

“Oh, come on. You like talking about earth and speaking spanish. Plus if you don’t use it you lose it…”

Lance continued to look at his friend through slightly narrowed eyes.

Hunk turned inward, his voice wavered, and he was suddenly small, “and I like when you speak spanish, it makes me feel like we’re home, at your family's house or something.”

A sliver of warm pride slipped into Lance's heart, and rose to his cheeks. Even if it was a small thing, he was glad he could do this for his friend.

“la lluvia…” Lance began, and he described the rain.

Not just how it looked -a field of grey bowing down to the ground- or how it felt -like a cold awakening- but also what it meant to him. He would look up as it fell on his face, and he let it soak into his clothes. His skin would become numb from standing in it, and he would imagine his body fading away into the mist that it created with the hot sand.

He told Hunk about the first time he imagined hitting the sun warmed beach, and evaporating.

It was the worst day of his life. When he was fourteen, he stood on the beach at midday, the sand was in flames, and his feet were on fire. Lance looked up as the sky cracked. Thunder rolled, the rain poured down, and for a while he was OK.

“Yo estaba bien por un tiempo...”

A whisper of cloth from behind them followed the tail of Lance’s tapering words.

Both boys whipped around.

“Was that spanish?” Keith asked from just inside the doorway.

Embarrassment, hot and airy, blew through Lance. It swept away all the other emotions that were battling for his attention. “How long have you been standing there?!” He wanted to slap himself when his voice cracked.

Keith became painfully awkward, he rocked from one foot to another, “not long, I came in while you were saying something in spanish…”

Lance knew that Keith lacked a lot of social grace, but this display was hard to watch, even for him. Lances embarrassment gave way to sympathetic nervousness.

Keith looked at the ground, he seemed stuck between saying something and leaving. He shifted his weight a few more times, and then he began to turn back towards the door.

“Keith, buddy. Don’t just stand there, come over here!” Hunk beckoned, his words catching Keith mid turn.

Lance wanted to shout, or punch Hunk. What did he think he was doing?! This was Keith... _Keith_ , the stoic mullet head who spent all his time on the training deck, and almost never hung out with the team.

But at that moment Keith’s hard edges were angled in all the wrong directions, he was out of his element, and everything intimidating about him was replaced with uncertainty. Even after Hunks invitation he was looking at Lance as if he expected yelling or protests.

Lance couldn’t dredge up his usual mask of irritation, this new hesitant Keith filled him with sympathy. The invitation rolled out of Lance’s mouth before he could stop it.

“Yeah… get over here, mullet head,” the taunting nickname was still mandatory.

The line of Keith’s body relaxed, he crossed the room, leapt over the back of the couch and landed on Lance’s left.

“Sometimes I come here when I can’t sleep,” Keith supplied, it was a reasonable explanation for his appearance in the doorway.

“Us too,” Hunk responded, and Lance wants to slap him. His big lovable friend just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

There was a long pause, the tension was becoming thick, and Lance became concerned that it would soon be impenetrable.

But Keith spoke up, breaking through at the last moment.

“Do you guys ever wonder why everyone in space speaks english?”

“Yeah!”

“All the time!”

Lance and Hunk blurted out simultaneously. They looked at each other and laughed.

“Pidge and I have theorised about that, and even investigated,” Hunk swooped in to explain. Lance recognized the tone of his friends voice, and knew he was about to be schooled, he leaned back and prepared himself.

Keith on the other hand crossed his arms and raised a brow.

“Ok, explain,” he prodded, settling back into his usual attitude.

Hunk sat forward to look past Lance, his face clearly said ‘challenge accepted’.

“OK, so get this. The castle was translating for us when we first got here.” Hunk waited for arguments.

When curious faces were the only response, his eyes sparkled with excitement and he dove into the details of his theory.  

“Pidge and I talked about this shortly after we settled into our Voltron roles. Remember when we first arrived in the castle, and the blue light beam thingy scanned us?”

Lance and Keith glanced at each other and they both nodded at Hunk.

“Well, that light totally downloaded language from our brains. When we freed Allura she wasn’t speaking english, she was speaking Altean…” Hunk tapped his chin in thought, “she probably still is… Anyway, the castle was translating her speech for us, and ours for her in her brain, because of her crazy magic connection to the ship. Same probably goes for Coran as well. Think about it, when Coran uses Altean terms we don’t understand, it’s because there is no word in English for whatever he’s talking about, so the ship just doesn’t translate it. The ship probably has tons of languages stored, but one day we might go to a planet that has a language we can’t translate, and we will have to scan some of the natives.”

Hunk waited for the information to sink in, and when his teammates looked sufficiently blown away, he continued to throw information at them.

“After we freed the Princess and Coran we went after the Lions. If we had waited, and interacted with aliens besides Allura and Coran before we got the Lions, we wouldn't have understood them because we aren’t connected to the Castle. But the Lions are connected to our minds and have the same translation tech as the ship, so that's why we understand every alien we come across, and why they understand us.” Hunk bounced excitedly as he finished, and waited for his friends to react.

Lance let the information settle, his mind jumped at the chance for a good debate, he felt like his brain had been atrophying recently. This was just like old times at the Garrison, Lance loved when Hunk would bring up theories, and dragged Pidge and him into a good discussion. Hunk always took it way too seriously, while Pidge and Lance just wanted to win the argument (which Hunk would demand they call a debate). This felt really good, he took a deep breath and it was easier than it had been for weeks. Hot energy simmered below his skin, he got goosebumps as he felt his mood improving.

Lance's mind rushed through everything that had happened since they came to space looking for a crack in Hunks theory. He smirked and raised a finger.

“Counterpoint.”

Hunk crossed his arms and leaned back with one brow raised, “proceed.”

And Lance did proceed, with a cocky tone. “What about the fact that Shiro said he could understand the Galra when he was first captured, and that they could understand him?” He wanted to see Hunk argue with that!

Hunk responded without missing a beat, ripping away Lance’s victory.

“If the Alteans had the translation tech ten thousand years ago, do you really think the Galra wouldn’t figure it out, or like, bootleg it and turn it all purple and Glara-y?” Hunk leaned to the side to look at Keith, “No offence,” he added.

Keith just shrugged.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lance had his hands out, motioning to halt the conversation. “Are you saying that the _Galra_ , took the time to scan Shiro, and his team, so they could understand the prisoners they planned to make fight to the death? I don’t buy it.”

Hunk rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “Pidge brought up the same point, but I have a counterpoint, and he's sitting right besides you.”

Lance looked at Keith, and sharp surprise wiped his mind clean. He had forgotten Keith was there, and now his mind was blank, he couldn’t put together what Hunk was trying to say.  It wasn’t fair, it was like he had been blinded by a flashlight to the eyes, but the flashlight was a hot dude. He could only focus on the warm but scary feeling that trickled down from the top of his head to fill his chest.

Keith looked around Lance at Hunk, and spoke up for the first time since he started the topic.

“So, you are saying that the Galra might have been to earth at some point in more recent history and gotten some of our languages?” He sounded hesitant, worried that he was intruding on their friend moment.

“Exactly,” Hunk agreed.

Keith’s voice brought Lance back to reality, hearing him join their debate prompted Lance to jump back in as well.

“But this is all conjecture,” Lance argued.

“I like to think of it as an educated guess,” Hunk huffed.

Lance snorted and crossed his arms, mirroring Hunks pose, “Which is essentially just assuming, and you know what they say about assuming? It makes an ass-”

Hunks hand shot out and covered Lance’s smirking mouth, “No! We are not degenerating into insults. Not again.” His voice was cryptic, and alluded to many other debates that Lance had turned into petty arguments.

Lance pulled Hunks hand down, “Fine, but I still say that this is all guess work.”

“That's not the point, Lance.”  Hunks pitch was rising as he became flustered.

“Yes, it is,” Lance bit back a smirk.

“No. It's not!”

“Hunk, my man… but it is.”

“Lance, no- it’s… uhhg,” Hunk ran his hand down his face in frustration, “Point of order.”

Lance groaned, “That ‘point of order’ shit might work on Pidge, but not me.”

Hunk put his hands on his on his hips. “I said point of order, so there _will_ be order,” He said in a tone that left no room for arguments.

Lance let his head fall back, and the back of the couch was low enough so that he was looking right up at the ceiling. “Fine…” he groused, and tried to hide his smile to maintain appearances, Hunk could never know that Lance thought it was fun when he was in serious debate mode.

“I want to make it clear that we are not discussing whether this theory’s basis is conjecture or not, we are talking about its potential validity by extrapolating from what we know. So can we drop it, and get back to the matter at hand?” Hunk recomposed himself as he spoke.

“Fine, fine,” Lance gave in before he actually pissed Hunk off. Nothing made him feel worse than upsetting Hunk.

“Thank you, I end my point of order, I believe it was your move.” Hunk said formally, like a chess player to his opponent.

Lance scrambled in his mind for a legitimate counterpoint. The seconds went by, and he felt the jaws of defeat closing in.

“Ummm…” Keith's looked at both of them, his expression unsure. “I’m not exactly sure how this works, I feel like this has some rules to it or something... but I have a counterpoint?”

Hunk nodded and made a sweeping gesture with his hand, like a court judge allowing new testimony, “Proceed.”

“Well, you said that the Castle downloaded language from our minds, and that's why it and the Lions can translate in English. But if that's true, why couldn’t I understand Lance when he was speaking Spanish?” Keith gained his usual reckless confidence back as he spoke, by the end of his point he was crossing his arms and smirking the same way he did when he kicked ass at sparing.

“Yeah!” Lance jumped on the chance to take Hunk down, he threw his arm over Keith’s shoulder, and shook him back and forth. “Keith, my man, coming in from left field!” He yelled.

In his excitement Lance didn’t immediately register the close contact he was forcing on Keith. After a few moments it sank in… Holy shit, he was holding Keith around the shoulders and there wasn’t a fist connecting to his face. What did he do now? Should he stop? Had his arm been there too long? Was he making it weird? SHIT, he was making it weird. Keith looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Hunk smirked, or as close to a smirk as he could get, his face almost incapable of forming an unfriendly expression.

“I have considered that, as well,” He said, completely unaware of Lances internal struggle.

Hunk set off on an explanation. Normally Lance would be analyzing every aspect of Hunks rebuttal, but right now all he could focus on was the continual internal scream going through his head. Hunk was saying something about emergency system protocol causing the castle to only take their commonly shared language, but Lance could hardly hear over his own thoughts.Should he take his arm off Keith now? Did he wait to long, not long enough? How long was a normal guy hug? He could see the tense lines around Keith’s eyes, and felt the muscles in his shoulders bunching.

“Oh, I guess that makes sense, it’s like the castle was in survival mode when we got here?” Keith was responding to Hunk, his voice dragged Lance’s eyes unwillingly to look at him.

Keith was smiling, but it was tight with obvious discomfort. It was a well known fact that Keith didn’t like to be touched... Now Lance was afraid to move his arm, because what if by moving his arm he brought Hunk’s attention to the situation? Shit, shit, SHIT! What was he going to do-

“Okay, I think I’m done for the night,” Hunk announced as he stood. He yawned, and scratched his stomach.

Lance felt Keith shift away in response to Hunk standing up, and it was the perfect moment to disengage. He pulled his arm back at what he hoped was a natural speed, and when he was once again contained in his own personal space he mentally cheered. Lance’s nerves settled, his mind cleared, and that's when he noticed Hunk was already gone. The swoosh of the door closing punctuated his friend's departure.

It was just Lance and Keith… why was Keith still there?

They sat in silence facing the huge window. Normally Lance's mind would wander, a continuous mandering that never lingered to long on one thought. It was a defence mechanism that helped him maintain a good mood by preventing him from settling on a topic that could lead down a negative mental path. But there was no wandering right now. Lance’s entire focus was whittled to a sharp point directed at Keith. He kept his eyes intently on the window, only able to see a fuzzy silhouette of Keith in his peripheral.

This was the first time they had been alone together in a long while, Lance couldn’t even remember the last time it happened besides a few moments here and there in passing. Normally he would have said something insulting or teasing by now, but without anyone to show off for, it just came off as mean.

Lance felt the beginning of watery panic filling his lungs, an insult was crawling up his throat, as his mind slipped into autopilot,  the need to break the tense silence overwhelmed him. Lance opened his mouth, his internal screams of _DON’T DON’T DON’T_ weren’t enough to hold back his awful reflex.

And then-

“I didn’t know you could speak Spanish,” Keith’s voice was a sledgehammer to Lance's chest. Whatever words were about to come out of his mouth were cut off so abruptly that he almost choked on them.

There was a beat of silence while Lance recollected himself. Keiths question was something to grasp onto that would keep his knee jerk reaction at bay.

“I’m Cuban, it's actually my first language,” His response came out sounding a little strained. As much as Lance bragged and rambled, he almost never gave out actual details about himself. An entirely new type of panic was taking over his mind, this was uncharted territory, and Lance didn’t have any behaviors to fall back on. _Just don’t insult him, just don’t insult him,_ he repeated the mantra, this was maybe their chance to be friends.

Keith shifted so he was facing Lance, sitting sideways on the couch, “Really? So, Hunk knows Spanish too? Because you were-”

“No!” Lance cut in louder than intended, his nerves got the better of him. He curled his hands in his lap to stop himself from putting his face in them.

He was still facing the window as he tried to recover. “Umm… I mean no, Hunk doesn't know much Spanish.”

Lance chanced a look at his teammate. Keith didn’t look irritated, just confused, and a little sad. Sad? That didn’t make any sense.

“Wait, but you were speaking Spanish to Hunk. If he doesn’t understand you… why?” Keith was beginning to sound as awkward as Lance felt, but it was a fair question. He pulled himself together the best he could, and turned to sit facing Keith.

“Hunk has known me for a long time, he would spend time with my family. So, I guess when I speak Spanish it sometimes makes him feel less like he's floating in space.” Lance tried to not reveal too much about Hunk’s anxiety or his personal background, it wasn’t his place.

Keith didn’t respond, he looked less confused, and more sad than before. Lance felt a pull in his chest, it made him want to do something, put a hand on Keith's stupidly strong looking shoulder, or pet his dumb pretty hair. More than any of that he wanted to ask why he was sad, because it still didn't make sense.

Lance wasn't sure what came over him and gave him the guts to actually ask, but he did.

“Whats wrong, you don’t like Spanish?” Lance tried for a light and joking tone, but it fell a little flat.

Keith recoiled, “No! No, no...nothing like that, I didn’t mean…” He floundered like he was trying to placate an angry cat, but wasn’t sure how to go about it.

Lance realized that his failed attempt to joke probably came off as him being offended, especially considering his history with Keith. But the fact that Keith didn’t become defensive and instead tried to keep the peace, warmed Lance. He wanted to say something reassuring, but the warm emotions filling him up were muddling his ability to think.  

Once again Keith broke the silence just as it was reaching the awkward point.

“I’m fine with Spanish. I just couldn’t help thinking that I don’t know anything about you, not even your ethnicity, and it's not just you… I don’t know much about any of the team.” Keith looked down at his hands, his bangs blocking his face.

This conversation was taking a turn Lance didn’t expect, not that he really expected anything, but he didn’t imagine it becoming deep, or maybe honest was a better word for it? Keiths words felt more personal than they appeared on the surface, like it was leading to a difficult topic. What was different about tonight that made Keith feel like he could talk to Lance? Then it struck him, this might be the first time they were near each other, and Lance didn’t start a fight.

A small flame of hope ignited in him. Maybe Keith didn't want to fight. If Lance could control himself, at least when they are alone, maybe they could get along? He pushed down his embarrassing feelings for Keith that normally caused him to lash out, and tried his best to not treat Keith like… well like _Keith_. Instead he would act like he was talking to Hunk, just pretend its Hunk. A pretty, pale, purple eyed Hunk, as if Hunk were a guy Lance found ridiculously attractive...well here goes nothing.

“Don’t worry about it buddy, it's not common knowledge. Only Hunk knows I speak Spanish, I never really told anyone else, but I guess you know now too.” Lance reassured the best he could.

Keith looked up through his fringe. “Really? It seems like something that would come up.”

A tiny stream of familiar, and acidic self-hate dripped from Lance’s chest to his stomach. He was ashamed, not of his heritage, but of the fact that he felt like he had to hide it in the first place. That his anxiety made him do irrational things like that. He didn't want to think about it, and quickly diverted the conversation.

“Is it bothering you that you don’t know much about the team? No offense, but that never really seemed to bother you before.”

Keith sighed, “Yeah, but before I had never tried to lead the team.” He looked wearily at Lance for a reaction.

Keith was probably worried that bringing up the month Shiro was gone would set Lance off. He didn’t know that Lance regretted that entire situation. He had been so mad that Keith was picked to lead, for no other reason than because it was Keith. He let his anger blind him and made everything harder, in retrospect he knew he was wrong. He knew it didn't really have anything to do with who got to be leader, and that he was just redirecting his fear, because he was bad at coping.

Lance didn’t explode, and so Keith pushed on with the conversation.

“When I was trying to lead the team I realized... I don't know enough about you or the others. Even if Shiro doesn’t know you speak Spanish, he spends enough time with all of you to know your strengths and weaknesses, and how to organize you guys… I didn’t. Pidge and Hunk didn’t look to me as a leader, because they don’t know me well enough to trust me to lead, and you were so mad…  and I was mad at you, but you were right-”

“I was right?” Lance cut in, confusion clear in his voice.

“Yes! You were right to be mad, to question Shiro choosing me to lead. I wasn’t good at it, and if Allura hadn’t stepped in we might have never found Shiro! Black wouldn’t even let down her barrier for me.” Keith didn’t sound angry, but his voice was rising, he looked upset and almost relieved. Like he was getting something heavy off his shoulders. “We couldn’t form Voltron! We were so incredibly lucky we didn't need to, we could have failed at our mission to save the _Universe_ because I didn't socialize with the team outside of a few bonding moments!”

Then it clicked in Lance’s head, and he forced down the 'bonding moment’ jab he wanted to make. This conversation wasn't happening just because Lance held back his insults, it was also because Keith needed to get something off his chest. They never fixed their arguments during the time Shiro was gone, they just dropped it when they got him back. Keith’s perceived failure as a leader must have been eating at him, and he wanted to resolve it with the only person that made it clear that they also thought he failed.

Everything came to a crashing Halt. His mind opened up to everything outside the tiny world he had been hiding in with Hunk the last few weeks. He and Hunk weren’t the only ones dealing with issues, and it didn't matter whose problems were worse, they could all help each other. Hunk wanted Lance to open up to someone on the team, like he was doing with Pidge, and here was Keith of all people, handing him the chance. And why the fuck not, why not Keith? Lance was so tired, and emotionally drained, that he couldn’t panic or worry, even if he wanted to.

Keith was still ranting, as if a dam broke and all his pent up insecurities about his time as leader were unleashed.

Lance cut through his waterfall of words with a sharp tone, “Well, who else would have been leader?!”

Without even a pause to think, Keith gestured at Lance with both his hands and yelled, “YOU!”

“Me?!”

“Yes, you! I see you checking in on everyone, you talk to everyone on the ship regularly, and you keep everyone in a lighter mood, but you also don't take crap. Pidge is to focused on tech. can't prioritize, and is fourteen, Hunk is too nice to be firm, and I don’t know you guys well enough. I don’t even know Hunk’s last name, or yours!” Keith finished and looked down at his lap.

Silence.

Holy shit. Lance couldn’t find his voice. Everything in him burned up in the wave of hot emotions that slammed through him like a semi-truck, he was happy and embarrassed. Keith through he would make a good leader? Where was all this coming from? Keith was right, he didn’t interact with the team enough, if he had then maybe this outburst would have been less of a surprise.

The good feelings evaporated. Keith was also wrong. He didn't know about all Lance’s issues, if he did he wouldn’t think Lance was a good choice, but now was not the time to argue that point. Grounded by the truth, Lance was able to pull together a response.

“You’re right, you don’t bond with the team enough.” The statement came out harsher than Lance intended. Keith lowered his head more, letting his hair veil his face again.

Lance sighed, he just had to roll with this dynamic shift between them and continue treating Keith like Hunk.

“But you can fix this,” He continued. “We can start with me.”

Keith perked up a tiny bit, “What?”

Lance let a goofy smile slip onto his face, he didn’t even need to fake it. His skin was tingling in that good way it did when his mood took an upward swing. Something about this situation made him feel lighter, maybe it was helping his teammate, or maybe it was just because he could finally talk to Keith normally. Whatever the cause was, Lance didn’t care. He felt his mind loosen, and for the first time, in a long time, he felt like he could talk about himself, for real… and that scared him, so Lance began to ramble.

“Yeah! I will like, tell you stuff about me, and you can do the same. I mean it's not completely your fault that you haven’t bonded with the team. We got thrown through a wormhole in a magical alien space cat, and then sucked into a ten thousand year old war against an evil galactic empire of purple cat people. Then you found out you are part purple cat person- there seems to be a theme- and then we lost Shiro. Now for the first time we have a break, Zarkon is laying low, if he’s alive, we have no leads on this Lotor dude we keep hearing about, and Allura said we were going to make rounds, free planets and find allies… so… yeah.”

He lost steam, and felt his face heat up when he realized how long he had gone on for, but Keith wasn’t hiding his face anymore. Totally worth it.

Lance wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he could have sworn he saw a pink blush creep up Keith's neck. Maybe he had some sorta social anxiety, and that's why the dude never hung out with the team? It was possible that he was like Lance. But unlike Lance, who needed social bonds like air, but also feared that people would dislike the real him, maybe Keith was just nervous around people in general, or scared of getting close to people. It fit so well Lance felt dumb for not realizing it before.

The idea that they were both anxious caused the tingling on Lance’s skin to settle into hot static that vibrated, boosting his confidence.

“McClain,” Lance stated.

Keith tipped his head to the side just the slightest bit to convey his confusion, and Lance almost died. How could one human- umm person? Be so fucking cute. Did he even know how adorable he was? Lance suspected he didn’t, or he wouldn’t do things that made him more adorable, Keith wasn’t the type to try and be cute intentionally.

“My last- it’s my last umm, name,” Lance choked out. He hated that Keith could fluster him so much.

Keith tipped his head a little more in thought, “Oh, it doesn’t sound very Cuban.”

Lance rubbed the back of his head, “Yeah, it's not. My mom is Cuban, and I was born in Cuba, but my dad was… Scottish maybe?”

“You don’t know if your dad was Scottish?” Keith sounded skeptical.

This was not what Lance expected to be talking about. When he offered to talk about himself he was thinking more along the lines of favorite color, or music interest. Ending up diving head first into deep topics was so very Keith, the boy didn’t know the meaning of the word pacing.

Lance sighed heavily, he couldn’t really back out now. Well, he could, but then he would probably lose his chance to get to know Keith. So now he was going to talk about his dad, which is something he didn’t even talk to Hunk about. It was all or nothing with Keith.

Lance’s hand went from rubbing the back of his head to resting on the back of his neck, a comforting gesture to himself. “Ahhh yeah… I didn’t really know my dad. I grew up with my mom and my uncle, also my abuela lived with us. I don’t even remember what he looks like, my mom didn't keep any pictures, my sisters don’t talk about him. He left when I was three, and my mom was pregnant with the twins.”

Keith became distinctly uncomfortable, “oh, sorry I didn’t-”

“No, no, it’s fine-” Lance cut in.

Keith spoke over Lance’s reassurance, “No, it’s not fine. I get it, and I shouldn’t have pried.”

An awkward silence left the room feeling empty, and Lance’s thoughts echoed in all the space. He didn't think he could count on Keith's impeccable timing to break this quiet, he looked to uncomfortable. Normally Lance would interpret the discomfort as a sign that Keith wanted to be away from him. But now, after finally getting some insight, he saw it for what it truly was, Keith was worried he messed up and said the wrong thing.

Lance felt even more empowered, he could help Keith and himself. Later he might lay in bed and agonize about this entire conversation like the neurotic idiot he was, but right now all he had to do was let go and be himself, and be open. All or nothing right? He just hoped Keith didn’t decided he hated Lance after learning more about him.

“Well, Now you have to make it up to me!” Lance swooped into his over dramatic voice.

“What?” The line of Keith’s body was unfolding, relaxing into the familiarity of Lance’s behavior.

“Make it up to me, tell me something about you that's equivalent and we will be square, more than square, we will be cubed.” Lance smirked, leaned back and took a more relaxed pose.

Keith responded to Lance's body language by relaxing even more, and taking the offer to share.

“Well, I never knew my mom, and I only knew my dad until I was ten, then he was just gone.”

A thick and heavy realization landed on Lance’s head. He leaned forward losing all pretence of being casual.

“Wait, when you were ten? Then who…” He couldn’t get the question out.

Keith crossed his arms in a protective gesture, “I was in the system.”

Lance leaned forward, the pulling in his chest was trying to reach Keith. “The whole time? No one ever kept you?” He winced at his own wording, poor choice.

Keith bit his bottom lip and shook his head, his composure wavering.

Lance felt immediately guilty, it was slimy as it slipped through him, and he shivered. How was he so dumb? he couldn’t even cheer up his teammate right, useless, stupid, fuck up.

Keith took a breath and added, “But, it wasn’t all bad.”  

“How so?” Lance jumped at a chance for a happier topic.

“Its how I met Shiro.”

All of Lance's attention was grabbed in a vice grip, even the part that was busy putting himself down stopped. This was something he had always wondered about.

“Really?” He tried to not sound overly interested.

Keith smiled, a real, actual smile, and not a smirk. It was like seeing a unicorn.

“Yeah, when I was twelve we met. He was part of that big brother program, and even after it was over he stuck around. Sorta like a real brother.” Keith definitely blushed when he said the last part, Lance was sure of it, and he didn't know what to say in response.

Keith saved him from having to find the words by diverting the subject. “I think I tipped the scale back to you, so now you tell me something to make us square.”

Lance’s mind filled with possible responses. His anxiety, depression, low self-esteem, all of which caused his mind too close down like a steel trap, to personal and to abstract. He felt like a deer in headlights. What uncomplicated experience did he have that rivaled admitting you’re an orphan?

He had one, the memory came so easily. His feet were in the burning sand, and hot mist from the rain swirled around him. He could hear the cries from his house, a painful keening that the rain couldn't drown. He wanted to fall, to scatter and dissipate. It was his fault.

NO! No no no no no, not that. He didn't want to think about it now, he was in a good mood. He couldn’t possibly talk about it, he never had and never would. Scorching water flowed under his skin and filled his lungs, he couldn’t stop it. Panic clawed up his throat, and he needed to say something, anything to shock his mind, keep it from sinking into the waters of despair.

The words shot from his mouth, it was the secret that was closest to the surface, the one he always wanted to scream to the universe without judgement.

“I’M BISEXUAL!”

Keith jumped, his eyes wide and mouth open in complete surprise. Lance’s panic shifted from sinking self hatred to frantic screaming, which was the more manageable of the two.

There was a long, long… like really long, possibly eternal stretch of silence. It was probably the second longest, painful silence Lance had ever sat through in his life. All he could think while looking at his teammates stunned expression was _“Don’t hate me, Don’t hate me, Dont hate me.”_

Eventually Keith recovered, he closed his eyes, and he took a calming breath.

“We’re square,” he said.

There was no recoil, anger or disgust. Only the tension of lingering shock.

Lance was relieved and strangely disappointed. He was glad that Keith wasn’t freaking out, but he also expected a bit more of a verbal reaction. Don’t get him wrong, Lance wished he had a camera so he could forever save the absolutely shocked expression Keith wore. Especially since Keith didn’t immediately punch him, or have some other equally absurd reaction that Lances irrational brain could think up. But he kinda expected more, maybe questions or yelling.

“That's it?” Lance found himself saying. He had been keeping that secret for so long, and it kinda felt like a waste of effort.

“I guess? I don't really know what to think,” Keith's voice was higher than usual. “You never showed any… ummm, interest in… So it just surprising.”

Keith stumbling over his words made it easier for Lance to move on. “Only Hunk knows. I don’t really advertise it. So if you could keep it-”

“Yeah, no problem. I won’t say anything.” Keith was quick to assure.

“And you don’t mind or…” Lance wasn’t sure how to word his worries without implying Keith was less than accepting.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” Keith sounded sincere, it also helped that he managed to say it at his usual pitch.

“Cool... cool, cool, cool.”

Lance smiled, and it felt right, like it belonged. He was filled with the familiar, scary and warm feeling that always ebbed and flowed with Keith, plus a new tingling happiness that settled deeper, and latched onto places Lance had never felt it.

He admitted a secret to Keith and wasn’t rejected.

Keith smiled back.

They both moved on to lighter topics. Lance was thankful because he didn’t think his heart could take anymore shocking revelations, or sad ones. They relaxed into volley of words, back and forth, as they also slowly repositioned until they were stretched out on the couch. They laid on their backs facing away from each other, the tops of their heads barely touched. Both of their faces were turned to the viewing window, staring out into the stars as they talked.

Lance took comfort in the warm point of contact he felt through his hair, it went straight to his toes following the curling path of growing excitement, that was always present through his body when he was with Keith.

Lance was happy.

Slowly a competitive edge began to slide into their conversation, because no matter how well they were getting along, they were still Lance and Keith. Their light banter devolved into a competition over petty insecurities that neither of them could feel embarrassed about in comparison to their earlier confessions. For Lance, it was equal parts, liberating, cathartic and frustrating.  

“I don’t like the dark,” Lance said smugly, top that!

“Well, I’m afraid of spiders,” Keith countered.

“I’m afraid of bees!”

“Scorpions freak me out.”

“Really? But you lived in the desert.” Lance questioned, and turned his head to look at the ceiling.

“Doesn’t mean I liked it.” Keith chuckled, the sound vibrated through the top of Lance's head and made him blush. Good thing they weren’t looking at each other.

“Huh, I guess I just assumed you did like it.”

“Well you know what they say about assuming, right?”

Did Keith just make a joke? No way. Lance out right laughed. “So you can make jokes!” A smile was in his voice.

“It’s been known to happen, but making jokes is embarrassing to me most of the time.”

It took a moment for Lance to realize Keith was back to their little game, he scrambled for a counter insecurity.

“I don’t like blue all that much. You know, considering I’m the blue paladin. I don’t hate it, but it's not my favorite color.”

Keith chuckled again, “That's funny, because I feel the same about red.”

Lance nearly sat up in response, “But you always have that red jacket on!”

“Yeah, I look good in red, doesn’t make it my favorite color.” Keith’s words held an undertone of ‘duh’, which amused Lance more than irritated him like it normally would.

“If it's not red, then what is your favorite color?”

Lance felt Keith shift so he was looking up and not at the window anymore.

“You first.”

Without hesitation or complaining, Lance complied.

“Orange, like sunset orange. Now you.”

Lance heard Keith let out a long breath, at the end of it he almost whispered his response.

“...It’s blue.”

The words shocked Lance right at the base of his neck. He sat up and twisted around to look down at Keith. The longer Lance stared the more uncomfortable Keith became.

“For real?” He asked.

Keith didn’t look him in the eye, his face was red, but he nodded. Lance turned around and laid back down, turning his head to the window again. There were few moments of silence in which Lance berated himself for putting Keith on the spot like that, he would have hated it if it were him, but the moments passed, and Keith spoke again.

“Blue was always my favorite. I was kinda disappointed when the Blue lion chose you, but I have the Red lion, and she feels, right, so...”

The words hung in the air, and once again Lance felt like he had to say something of equal weight. He wanted to tell Keith everything, all his worries, about panicking, hating himself, being a fuck up, and having nothing to offer Voltron but a body in a pilot seat. He wanted to blurt all of his irrational fears, but it would be to much, he picked one small thing.

“I know I brag about being the sharpshooter, but I worry I'm not actually that good at it.” It almost hurt to say something he had buried so deep, like pulling off a bandaid you left on too long.

Keith sat up this time, but he didn’t twist around to look at Lance. He completely repositioned so that he was sitting cross legged behind Lance's head looking down at him. Lance tipped his head back a little, and looked up at purple eyes. Keith wasn’t smiling or smirking, he looked mad. The fear that began to climb up Lance was quickly knocked down when Keith spoke.

“Are you kidding me? You are the best shot I have ever seen, and I have watched professionals at the Garrison. Some of the shot you have made were insane.”

Keith wasn’t mad at Lance, he was mad that Lance was doubting his skills. This new concept was shorting out Lance's ability to function.

“Really?” He squeaked. Normally making a sound like that would embarrass the hell out of Lance, but Keith was looking at him with the most earnest expression, and it filled Lance with so much emotion he thought he might cry. He didn’t cry, but he could have.

“Yeah… especially when we were rescuing Shiro. You’re like an ace sharpshooter or something…” Keith became uneasy, as if he just realized who he was complimenting.

Lance needed to lighten this mood, break the tension. His nervous energy boiled under his skin. He said the first thing he had on his mind, something he hoped was true.

“It’s almost like we’re friends or something.” He held up his fist hoping Keith would understand, and for the first time since they met, Keith grasped a modern social cue.

He bumped his fist against Lance's and said, “Yeah, Ace. We’re friends.”

** End Part 1

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boop me on Tumblr https://deetsvibre.tumblr.com/


	2. Three Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance talks with Allura, and Pidge. He also learns more about Keith. Then everything goes dark.
> 
> Lance is a bit more light hearted.
> 
> Awkward boys warning!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three will probably take longer than part 2, so prepare for a wait. Thanks for reading!

 

**Part 2- Three Days**

 

The Castle of Lions was huge. Sometimes, Lance was convinced it was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, like some Harry Potter magic type bullshit. It was so big, that one time he even lost his Lion.

When Lance discovered the Blue Lion was missing from her hanger, he panicked, and ran to Allura. He was frantically waving his arms, and yelling about space pirate’s abducting his beautiful blue lady, he was so upset he forgot to try and find Blue via their mental link.

But it turned out, Blue wasn’t stolen. Allura explained that Blue probably went to the common hanger, and that's how Lance learned that such a place existed in the castle. It was located at the bottom of the ship directly in the middle, and was connected to each of the Lions individual hangers. The large common hangar was a circular room with five cubbies, one for each Lion. The back of the cubbies could open up into a path leading to each Lion's personal hangar so they could prepare for launch on a moment's notice.

It had only been two weeks into Lance's space journey when he learned that his Lion moved between the hangers independently, and chose to socialize with the other Lions. Even though he knew the mecha cats were sentient on some level, the idea that they desired to be in each other company, and that they could get lonely, really drove it home. From that day on Lance made a point to visit Blue more often.

Blue had been alone on earth for thousands of years, it must have been terrible, so it makes sense that she would reach out to Keith. Even if he wasn’t her paladin, he was destined for Voltron, and Blue must have been desperate. But now she had Lance, and he could feel her incredible enthusiasm every time he visited. It was one of the things that helped him get through the rougher times, but Blue, like Hunk, couldn’t fix everything.

_The bathroom tile was cold through his jeans, and hurt his knees. Burning, awful retching, he was drowning._

The memory echoed through Lance.

A rumble started at the back of his neck, it was smooth as trailed over his skin, and though his bones. It was the sun warming him from back to front, then it permeated his mind, and dried up his bad throughs.

Suddenly, the feeling turned sharp, and it slapped him upside the head.  

“I get it, I get it!” Lance pouted, but had trouble keeping the smile out of his voice.

Blue made it clear she did not approve of his current train of thought. It would be useful if their connection persisted at this strength from a distance, so that Lance could have a mental babysitter, but Blue was only able to directly communicate at close quarters. There were a few exceptions, extreme situations when the Lions knew that their Paladins were in danger. Aside from those instances, the bond weakened when they were apart, even if Lance was just in a another part of the castle, the link became only a compass, always pointing his mind at Blues location. But those rare instances made Lance wondered if they could deepen their bond somehow.

He pondered his hypothesis as he lounged on Blue’s paw. They were in the common hanger, with Red and Black. The continuous flow of informations that was exchanged between the Lions, their ‘conversation’, hummed in the back on Lance's mind. It was relaxing and also interesting. He knew what Blue was feeling and generally what she was saying, through a series of impressions, but he couldn’t grasp anything the other Lions were projecting. He knew they were saying something, he could feel it because Blue did, but it was like listening to someone on the phone. He could hear Blues half of the conversation, but the others were just muffled voices on the other side of the receiver.

Lance stretched out, and let the flow of magical robot cat conversation rumble in the back of his mind. He was facing Black’s cubby, which was directly across from Blue. He stared at the largest of the Lions, and his scalp tingled, the same way it does when you’re sure someone’s watching you. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, as if fingers were hovering just an inch from his skin, and the anticipation of physical contact was crawling all over him.

Black was taunting him in that _‘I'm not touching you’_ sort of way, and Lance wondered, not for the first time, if what Keith said months ago had any weight to it. At the time he had dismissed it, Lance wasn’t a leader, he could barely keep himself together. But ever since Keith’s confession that he thought Lance would have made better leader when Shiro was gone, he couldn’t help but pay more attention to the Black Lion, and Black seemed to be taking notice.

Blue pulled away from her conversation, and pressed on Lance's mind.

A sharp jab of _irritation_ was followed by a blanket of _affection,_ and a little of what Lance thought might be _insecurity_.

“Don’t worry beautiful, I’m not going anywhere,” Lance responded.

Blue purred, and projected _comfort._

“I was just wondering about the what if’s, I still think Keith was wrong about me being leader material.”

 _Denial_ , Blue responded.

Lance smiled, “Oh, So you think I could be leader?”

_Affirmation and affection._

“Well, I guess I have no choice,” Lance sighed dramatically and began to get up.

_Confusion._

“You said I’m leader material, so I should go spend time with Black,” Lance explained like it was obvious.

Blue growled so loud it physically pierced Lance’s body. He was so surprised that he slipped and tumbled back onto Blue’s paw.

“I was JOKING!”

Blue let out a sound that was distinctly laughter, even if it was rumbling and mechanical. But if Lance had any doubt, it was confirmed by a wave of _amusement_ that came with it. The sound of Blue’s laugh was echoed by the other two Lions in the hanger. Embarrassment flooded Lance and he ducked his head.

“Stupid magic mechs…” He grumbled.

“Woah, I have never seen Red respond to anyone but me.” Keith appeared in front of Blue.

“Keith!” Lance yelled in surprise, and clutched his chest, “Don't sneak up on people like that!”

Keith cocked his head, “I didn’t. I just walked in through the door.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at said door.

“Umm… Right.” Lance’s embarrassment doubled and he felt himself blush. Keith really needed to stop tipping his head like a puppy, it was taking years off Lance’s life. He tried to recover as the Lions settled down, but the heat that pooled under his skin stubbornly remained.

“I wouldn't say she was responding to me, more like at me... “ Lance looked to the side and hoped his red face wasn’t to obvious.

Keith smirked, “If you say so, Ace.”

The gentle pull that always reached for Keith, tugged hard on Lance’s heart. He couldn’t help it when he smiled softly, but wasn’t disappointed when Keith’s smirk also softened, and his shoulders dropped from their normally defensive lift.

“So, what did you come here for?” Lance tried to lean back casually, and kind of pulled it off.

Keith shrugged, “I was actually looking for you.”

“¿para mi?” Lance asked, and preened a bit. He had started speaking Spanish around Keith, and was surprised at how comfortable he was doing it. Once he started he couldn’t stop. He liked to think it made them closer, that maybe Keith understood it was a sign of Lance’s walls coming down.

“Umm… Yes?” Keith guessed.

Lance smirked and nodded, he loved when Keith tried to figure out what he was saying. Over the last few weeks he had improved a lot.

Keith smiled and got to the point, “I was thinking about what you said last night, about how to breathe while shooting and...”

Lance listened to Keith explain his thoughts, and they quickly struck up a conversation about sharpshooting. Their communication was smooth and comfortable in a way that seemed impossible only months ago, but that one night in the observation deck changed everything. Since their first friendly meeting they had continued to find each other when the others were sleeping or occupied. They didn't just meet on the observation deck, but in odd places all over the castle. Sometimes they talked -or argued-  and, sometimes they just sat together. After the first three weeks, Lance brought up that he was thinking of training more, he told Keith a little about his anxiety (very little), and how Hunk had suggested a hobby. Lance expected some ridicule, or maybe a laugh, what he didn’t expect was Keith's offer to help.

From that day forward they began to meet in the training deck, along with other nooks and crannies on the ship. It had started rough, they had a lot of fights, heavy angry ones, and light bantering spats. Lance would feel inferior when Keith casually beat him in hand to hand, and Keith would get frustrated easily when he couldn’t control his breathing or still his hands. But they refused to give up on each other, it was some type of strange internal force that kept Lance coming back, and he knew Keith felt the same.

They trained, talked, and sometimes even dove into personal topics like they had the first night. It had been three months since their first meeting, but they never told the rest of the team, or acted any different when they were with the others. It wasn’t something they had discussed, but they both kept quiet, It was a silent understanding that this time was theirs, and that anything said between them, stayed between them.

It wasn’t hard to keep their team in the dark, they still argued and bickered, so continuing to act normal was easy. The only difference was the lack of actual malice in their fights (most of the time), that change drew in approving comments from Shiro and Allura about how the team bonding exercises were working, and then it was never brought up again.

Hunk hardly noticed the dynamic shifting between his friends, but he did notice the general upswing in Lance’s mental state. There were still bad days and good days, but the bad days weren’t world ending as often, and the good days were more plentiful. Hunk didn't push to hard when he asked about what changed. Lance could tell that Hunk didn’t want to throw off whatever balance had formed.

The only downside to all the recent events between Lance and Keith, was Lance’s crush. It was growing, fast. It was a gremlin that someone fed after midnight level of bad, he was wildly and uncontrollably attracted to Keith. Along with the growth of his feelings, came the problem of hiding them, it was becoming hard to do.

“I’ll see you tonight on the training deck, and I can try that breathing exercise.” Keith smiled, and his face lit up with excitement.

This was the Keith that only Lance, and probably Shiro, got to see. He was relax, excited, and a little bit of a nerd about his interests. Seeing this side of Keith made Lance unfold parts of himself he normally held close, he wanted to completely open up so bad, and it scared him. Being closer to Keith had helped Lance so much, but it also made things harder. Now he had new things for his anxiety to latch onto. Lance was always worried he would mess up, and that Keith would decided not to be friends anymore. The same thoughts whirled around his mind, did he piss Keith off? Upset him? Was he talking to much? Could he tell that Lance liked him? So on and so forth...

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Lance smiled back.

“See ya’ later, Ace.” Keith turn, and threw a small wave over his shoulder as he left.

The moment the hanger door closed Lance melted back onto Blue’s paw, and groaned. He ran his hand through his shaggy hair. This was so bad, he was happy that he was friends with Keith, and didn't want to mess it up, but it was getting harder to act normal. Stupid, pretty Korean boy, and his stupid smile, and dumb, cute, nerdiness.

And that nickname, Ace. It started the very first night, and only in private, but every time Keith said it...

“Uhhhhhg...” The sound came from Lance’s very soul.

He was saturated with his feelings for Keith. His entire body hummed with attraction, affection, and the desire to run after Keith every time he left the room.

Lance groaned again, quieter this time, as he threw his arm over his eyes. Blue purred for him and he sank into the feeling, only half aware of the conversation between the Lions picking back up.

“You better not be saying anything about my feelings to Red. I swear I will never fly you again if Red says anything to Keith,” Lance grumbled.

 _Assurance_ was Blue's response.

“Thank you.”

Ooo

Lance was still sprawled over Blue’s paw an hour later. He was confused. The more he thought about his situations with Keith, the more confused he became. He was pretty sure that thinking something over was supposed to make it clearer, but that was apparently not the case for Lance.

Although Keith and him were much closer now, they still didn’t talk about certain aspects of themselves. Lance wanted to open up like Hunk told him to, but he still couldn’t shake his fear. The heavy disgust he sometimes felt for himself was what he feared in others. It had worn down his self confidence over years, he was weak from being flooded by anxious, panicked storms. He wasn’t even sure he could explain his problems, Hunk just knew by experience, so it was easier with him. Were there words to adequately express what he sometimes went through? Would Keith think he was crazy?

To avoid talking about his feelings, Lance mostly talked about his family, his home, how much he missed rain.

_“Man… I miss rain”_

_“You say that at least once a week, Ace.”_

Lance only briefly touched upon anything relating to his anxiety.

When Keith talked, it turned out to be the complete opposite experience, he talked about his feelings fairly openly (and awkwardly). He told Lance about his trouble communicating with people on a real level, how he wasn’t good at bonding, and how he was always too nervous about saying the wrong thing. He told Lance about his anger problems, trust issues, and his fear of losing the few people he had. But the only time Keith's past came up, was when he explain to Lance, very vaguely, about how his childhood was the reason for most of his emotional problems. Other than alluding to his past being harder than most peoples, he didn’t talk about it. Except for some hilarious stories about Shiro.

_“One time when Shiro, he hid under a car from his girlfriend's dad.”_

_“That’s hilarious!”_

Lance rolled to his side, and ran his hands through his hair. It was at an irritating length, but he refused to cut it. It helped him feel better when he looked in the mirror, because no one could make him cut it. The sides were shaggy, and fell past the bottom of his ears. His fringe was just long enough to get in his eyes. It was driving him nuts. He huffed as the strands he just pushed back flopped onto his face again, he swiped them away, but they refused to stay put.

A spark of frustration ignited his pent up emotions. His breath caught when the familiar heat of panic seeped into his chest. Wet and heavy, it filled him with the burn of drowning. His mind was racing, how was he going to handle all his feelings for Keith, was he going to feel like this forever? Could he get over it, did he want to?

His feelings always got in the way.

Why was he such a fuck up?

He was too hot. Lance sat up and struggled out of his jacket, willing himself to calm down. But it wasn’t working. In a fit of frustration Lance threw his jacket, and it hit the only thing on the nearby wall… because that was just his luck. Lance watched the overstuffed emergency kit tilt, and then fall. It exploded open when it landed, spewing rations, and first aid. Plus a tightly folded blanket burst out and unrolled. It’s shiny red fabric looked entirely too thick to fit in the small pack.

 

Lance groaned. He was never going to get all of that to fit back in the bag! He couldn’t fold a road map correctly, how was he going to get that blanket back in? He really was a fuck up...

A deep rumble started on the surface of his skin, and then sank into his body. It swept away his negative thoughts. Blue wrapped his mind in a warm hug that said, _‘everything's OK’._

The sentiment was familiar.

Ooo

“todo va a estar bien, Lance.” Maritza’s words did little to comfort her brother, but her arm around his shoulders kept him grounded. He twisted a folded sheet of paper over, and over in his hands, while he focused on controlling his breathing.

The weathered, and uneven curb was uncomfortable to sit on, but that was the least of Lance’s problems.

He was going to die, at the tender age of twelve.

“Mamás going to kill me,” he whined.

The sun cascaded over the park that he and his sister sat in. it was the perfect temperature, with a gentle breeze, and Lance was out of school in the middle of the day. Normally this would be a wonderful thing, he and Maritza would get ice cream and go to the arcade, but not today.

“Don’t be over dramatic.” Maritza’s tone betrayed her words, and she hugged her brother tighter to her side.

Lance didn’t respond, they both knew he wasn’t exaggerating about what their mother's reaction would be, his siblings might as well start divvying up his belongings.

Maritza sighed into the silence, “so how bad is it?”

Lance didn’t responds, but his sister remain quiet, waiting. She new the silence would get to Lance, and he knew he was going to lose, so he handed over the white paper he had been worrying. His sister always knew when to use a long silence to her advantage, it was Lance’s weakness.

Maritza took the paper, and spent a moment untwisting the frayed mess, then her eyes scanned it quickly.

“This is bad,” she said, because his sister wasn’t the type to sugar coat.

Of course it was bad. He had called Maritza before his Mamá, which was a clear indicator of a worse case scenario. His oldest sister had always been there for him, from the moment he walked into her room at four years old, she watched out for him. He was the middle of six siblings and was sometime overlooked by their mother, but never by Maritza.

When he started having problems with anxiety at a young age, she was the first to notice. She always remind him that he was good, that he mattered, and that it was OK to make mistakes. She would tell him he was beautiful. But most importantly, at least in his current situation, Maritza often shielded Lance from the brunt of their mother's or Uncle’s anger. Lance didn’t have the advantage of being one the oldest in the house, or the baby, but he had her.

Maritza handed the paper back, “We can’t cover this up, it’s a whole week.” She said with a hit of sympathy.

A small whine escaped Lance, “can’t I just go someplace else during the day?”

“You’re suspended from school, Lance. It’s going to come up one day when Mamá’s talking to your teachers, and it will be worse if she finds out like that.”

His sisters logic overrode Lance’s completely rational impulse to hide his suspension from their mother. Dread filled him, it washed through his body and met with his ever present anxiety. Lance pulled as the grass besides him compulsively, while he tried to remember to breathe.

_Breathe, pull, breathe, pull, breathe, breathe, breathebreathebreathe._

“Lance, cálmese. Respire profunda y lentamente.” Maritza rubbed his back slowly, and he adjusted his breathing to match her stokes.

“Sorry,” Lance apologized on reflex.

Maritza squeezed him, “nothing to be sorry for.”

They stayed in a comfortable silence while Lance fortified himself for what was coming next.

“Now what?” He asked, looking for guidance.

“Now, you tell me what happened from the beginning, so I am fully prepared when we tell mamá.”

Lance didn’t even get the first syllable out before Maritza cut him off.

“And no embellishments, Hot Shot,” she said firmly, and smirked down at him.

“I didn’t even-”

“I know you, Lance.” Was the only explanation needed.

Lance placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He couldn’t look at her. She was waiting patiently, her hair was in a loose bun, mussed up from her job. She left work because he called her, he was disrupting her day and she just sat there, relaxed and open. She wasn't angry at him in the slightest, but she should have been. What was wrong with him? He was drenched in a wave of frustration. Why did he think it was OK to bother his sister with this? A burning mixture of feelings was rising, and he didn't understand most of them, but he wanted to let himself sink below the surface.

He deserved it.

“Hey, Hot Shot,” Maritza tone was teasing, and she poked him in the side. “I can practically hear your depressing thoughts, knock it off.”

Lance snorted. Maritza delivered the truth with a type of cadence that knocked him right out of his negative slump. He loved how blunt she was, and hoped she never changed.

Lance fell to the side, and rested his head on her shoulder.

“I punched Anton in the face…” He admitted to his crime quietly.

“What! Why?”

Her tone made Lance crinkle his nose and he sighed. It was a slow, and almost silent release of breath that he was sure his sister felt. It was an action more fit for an old man, than twelve year old boy.

“I don’t know…” He admitted with the last of his sighs breath.

A delicate hand weaved into his very short hair, and down his back. Lance could feel his sister's intention through action alone. There was no judgment as she waited for him to continue.

“I was mad… because…” The sharp edge of fear grazed up Lance’s spine, it was his mind warning him to keep quiet. He hesitated.

The warm hand slid between his shoulder blades, up his neck and back into his hair. It helped Lance find the words despite his fear. “Because… I… he… I like him.”

Maritza chucked, “I would hope so, since you two are friends.”

Lance didn’t respond. He was scared, and it filled him to the brim. It pressed on his lungs, and burned his eyes.

The implication of his words became apparent, in the face of his silent tears.

“Oh, manito.” Maritza pulled her little brother into a hug, “It's OK.”

In the safety of her arms Lance let go of his insecurity.

“Is… it really... OK?” His voice cracked with his effort to speak above his own cries.

Maritza held him tighter, “Yes, Manito. Everything's OK.”

Ooo

**“All paladins please report to the control room.”**

Allura’s voice echoed through Lance’s reminiscing. Her tone was calm, so he didn’t rush to his feet, but instead leisurely slid off of Blue’s paw. His mind was heavy with faded memories. He ignore the mess he made, and left.

Lance was on edge. He was immersed in emotions, and it felt like they coated his body. At times like this, he was sure people could look at him and know his every thought.

He walked slowly towards the control room, voices echoed from the open door and rippled over his twitching skin. He shook his arms out, and took a breath right before he stepped into the room. He was the last to arrive, his eyes rested on everyone for a moment, except Keith, he intentionally skipped over his crush. When he spotted Allura, he sauntered over and leaned on the control panel next to her.

“You called, Princess?” He smoothed out on reflex with a smirked.

“Hello, Lance.” Allura was looking at a large hologram of a planet, while entering data into the ship's computer. She didn’t even glance at the Blue paladin as he pointed finger guns at her. She entered the final bit of information with a little flourish, and turned to face her team, still ignoring Lance who was standing next to her and not with the group.

“Paladins, I have called you together for a short briefing on our upcoming mission.”

Lance leaned closer to the Princess, “You can brief me for any length of time-”

“Nope.” Shiro’s hand covered Lance's mouth before he could finish his bad pickup line. He got a grip on the back of Lance’s jacket, pulled him into the group, and placed him between himself and Keith. Lance pouted and refused to look at Keith’s smirking face. Dark eyes were boring into the side of Lance’s head, stupid, deep eyes, that you could get lost in… A blush began to spread up his neck, and his thoughts were so loud, Lance was sure they were spilling out of him for everyone to see. Outwardly he only clenched his fist, and stared straight ahead.

Allura continued without missing a beat.

“This is the planet, Yeppeuda.” She gestured to the hologram. It depicted a planet that was half water, with all of its major land masses in the Southern Hemisphere. “The civilization on this planet is highly advanced, and made up of a space faring race that has unified into one planet wide nation.”

Allura waved her hand, and the hologram zoomed out to show the entire solar system that contained Yeppeuda. “As you can see, Yeppeuda is the only life supporting planet in their system, and thus has no near by allies.” She waved her hand again to zoom out some more, and pointed to the next closest system. “This is the Purpura system.”

She paused in her explanation as everyone looked at the Purpura system, it was completely covered in the red that indicated it was Glara controlled territory.

Shiro spoke up, “so, the Galra from Purpura are invading Yeppeuda and... we need to save them?” His statement tapered into a question.

“That's just it!” Allura excitedly waved her hand to zoom all the way back in to Yeppeuda, and pointed at it accusingly, “They aren't under attack or Galra control!”

“Wait…” Keith drew everyone’s attention, “There’s a highly advanced planet, that's all alone, right next to Glara territory, and they haven’t taken it?”

Keith’s voice struck a match inside Lance, igniting his building emotions, and he felt like everyone could feel its heat. It pushed him over the edge he had been skirting, and he lashed out on reflex to cover his insecurity.

“Yeah, **Idiot**. The Princess just got done saying that.” His words were mild, but the acid that dripped from them was thick. He hated himself before he finished the sentence. Why was he like this?

Lance didn't need to look at Keith to know he was hurt, and angry, it was all in his voice.

“I’m an idiot? Well at least I’m not an asshole who-”

“Asshole?! You’re the asshole!” Very good Lance, great comeback… He wanted to stop but his mouth ran away from him.

“Me?! I wasn’t even saying anything to you!” The anger was draining from Keith, and he sounded confused, and indignant.

“I just hate your dumb voice when-”

“Boys.” Shiro’s dad voice had an edge, sharpened by his second imprisonment. Everyone fell silent.

There was an empty moment, that was filled by Lance’s shame, and Keith’s hurt, but Allura smothered it by picking up the briefing.

“Keith is correct in his assessment, and subsequent confusion. The fact that the Galra haven’t taken Yeppeuda is the reason we are going there. With the long lull in our fight against the Galra it is the perfect time to gather some intel.”

“OOOOOH! Like we get to go undercover and stuff!? Like SPIES!” Hunk was bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. Lance would have been right there with him if he wasn’t wallowing in self pity.

Allura clapped her hands together, “Yes! Very much like spies!”

“And you said they were an advanced civilization?” Pidge joined in with stars in their eyes.

“Very advanced,” Allura assured. “This will be a perfect opportunity for us to see what we can integrate into our own technology.”

“YES! Lets wormhole there now.” Pidge motioned Allura to the control station, but she sidestepped the youngest paladin.

“That's another thing I called you here to talk about, we can’t wormhole there.”

“Why not?” Pidge asked, falling back into their usual irritation.

“Well, it's not that we can’t, it’s that we shouldn’t,” Allura amended.

Coran practically danced up to the control panel, and picked up the explanation where Allura had trailed off. “You see, Wormholes give off a very distinct frequency of quintessence radiation, it is unique to each type of wormhole depending on the technology that created it.”

He waved his hand at the control panel, and suddenly the planet Yeppeuda was replaced with a mass of seemingly random squiggles. He pointed at a chaotic orange one, “This is the Megadon frequency given off by wormholes created by the Choego people.” He pointed to another squiggle that was pink,  “and this cute little guy is the ilgagsu frequency from-”

Allura half pushed, and half shooed Coran away from the projection. “Yes, Coran is quite right. We can’t wormhole that close to Galra territory without risking them picking up our wormhole frequency on their scanners.”

Pidge’s shoulders drooped, and they pouted childishly, “Can we at least wormhole closer to cut travel time?”

“Yeah! How soon do we get to be spies?” Hunk almost knocked Pidge to the floor in his haste to get to the front of the group. He stopped in front of Allura with his hands clasped together, “And do we get costumes? Can we be pirates? OH, we could be space heroes!”

Shiro chuckled while pulling Hunk back by his shoulder, and out of the Princess’s personal space. “We already are space heroes, Hunk.”

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck, “I meant like the rugged, dark past type.”

Everyone laughed. Even Keith was pulled from his brooding irritation and cracked a smile, but Lance stayed quiet as he backed out of the group slowly. He found a crack, and slipped into it, hoping there was an escape on the other side. Everyone continued to debate what costumes they should wear for their imaginary undercover spy mission, as Lance slid away to the door. He heard Allura explain that the closest they could wormhole would leave three days of travel, and then there was silence when the door slid closed.

Ooo

The castle had been lit with the calming blue of night mode for hours, and Lance sat alone on the training deck. He wasn’t super hopeful that Keith would show up, he sounded really mad when they argued earlier, and Lance wouldn't blame him if he bailed on their meeting. He wouldn’t blame Keith if he decided to bail on their entire friendship…

Shame still wriggled under Lance’s skin, making him feel sick to his stomach. He hadn't snapped at Keith like that in months. Thinking back on the situation he didn’t really remember what lead up to him lashing out, it was a blur of heat and embarrassment, that flooded every corner of his brain until he short circuited.

Lance’s fingers moved fluidly. Two long metal sticks flicked back and forth, as a ball of something similar to yarn slowly unraveled next to him. The last time they had stopped at a space mall Lance had found the metal sticks that were remarkably like knitting needles, the store clerk said they were parts for some type of engine. He had also found a store full of different cloths, threads, and yarns, although it wasn't exactly like yarn (it was smoother), and they didn't call it yarn, it still served the same purpose.

Lance’s mind fretted away as his hands continue to work the yarn into a thin sweater with many arm holes, he was going to give it to Slav the next time they met with the Blade. Keith was almost like a member of the Blade… the fresh reminder of his supremely stupid behavior sent Lance crashing into the cold water of self loathing.

Why did he always have to fuck everyth-

The sound of the door opening, and swishing shut, caused his muscles to twitch, and his shoulders to bunch up to his ears. The shame bled into mortification, and it vibrated through him so fast it became a rushing between his ears, but it ironically derailed his negative thoughts.  

The sound of clothes rustling preceded the soft thump of someone sitting on the floor to Lance’s left.

“I still can’t believe you knit.” Keith's voice broke through the chaos of Lance’s mind with ease. He didn't respond for a long moment, but looked away from his work to focus on Keith, he didn’t look mad. Lance’s shame returned, underlining a cool wind of relief, selfish relief that Keith wasn’t upset with him.

“My abuela taught me how, when I was a kid I had issues… staying still. This helped.” Lance stopped knitting to try and push his irritating bangs out of his eyes. He reached out to put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, and apologize for being an ass.

Keith leaned sideways, expertly avoiding Lance’s touch, and then pushed Lance with his shoulder, “You, an energetic kid?” He joked.

Lance dropped his knitting to catch himself before he fell over. He pushed himself away from the floor to shoulder check Keith in return, sending him sprawling to the floor on his side. The rush of excitement from rough housing ebbed when Keith didn’t sit back up immediately. Lance worried he had crossed a line, he had noticed that Keith didn't accept much contact besides sparing, and the occasional fist bump.

“You’re OK, right?” Keith asked, while still laying on his side. He sounded worried.

Lance didn't know what to say, he felt like he should be the one asking that.

Keith continued with obvious concern, as he set back up. “I was worried after you snapped at me, because then you just left. It was very un-Lance like.”

Why was he worried about Lance? He should be hurt or angry, it would be more in character for him to still be mad, not concerned. But it seemed that Keith had learned to understand Lance, and their growing friendship allowed him the benefit of Keith’s doubt. Lance couldn't deny that it made him happy, the feeling was warm and tingly, and it filled him up. It pushed aside many less than pleasant feelings.

“I’m fine, I uhhh…” Lance couldn’t tell him that he freaked out because his huge crush overwhelmed his dumb, anxiety ridden brain.

Keith tipped his head, clearly waited for an explanation, and all the half assed excuses Lance had been formulating were wiped from his mind. Why did Keith have to be so fucking cute?  The sheer force of his attraction hit him like a semi-truck.

“Will you stop doing that!” Lance yelled, and immediately regretted it. Why couldn’t he control his damn mouth around Keith?!

Keith tipped his head the other way, “Doing what?”

“That- the thing- you...you.” Lance choked on his words. He couldn’t admit why he was so flustered, so he changed the topic as smoothly as he could. “Lets just train!” He yelled and jumped to his feet.

Real smooth McClain...

Keith sighed and stood up, “OK... but am I missing something? I told you that I have trouble with social cues sometimes...” his words faded into uncertainty. With the slight shift of Keith’s stance, he visibly closed off. As reckless, and bullheaded as he was, Lance knew he was still unsure when it came to his people skills. The more Lance got to know him, the more Keith let his insecurities show when it came to their friendship.

Lance waved his hands around in denial, “No, no, you’re fine. I’m just having an off day.” He owed Keith more than a lame excuse, he took a fortifying breath. “Sometimes I get… nervous, and it overwhelms me. I don’t react well in those moments…”  

Keith turn to face Lance, and the tense line of his body unfurled with the movement. “Come on, Ace. Let's set up the shooting range,” he suggested, offering an opening to let the topic drop.

Keith didn't press Lance to tell him why he was nervous, he wasn’t that type of person. Keith only took what he was given, a behavior that always pulled on Lance’s heart with sadness, but it never stopped him from taking advantage when it was convenient. Like right now.

Ooo

“Breathe in slowly while taking aim, hold for ten seconds, be sure you have the target and… Shoot!”

The _ping_ of the shot hitting the target was satisfying.

“YES!” Keith sat up and practically threw his practice rifle into the air. He was sitting in a sniper's net created by the training room.

Lance was next to him bouncing in place. “Great shot!”

Keith turned to his makeshift instructor, “Shit, I don’t know how you do it, Ace. I have seen you make that shot three times in a row while moving.”

Lance crossed his arms and smirked, “While I was moving _and_ the targets were moving, actually.”

Keith laughed, sat back, and put the rifle down between them. He looked like he was basking in his success. It was not something Lance had seen him do before, and he committed it to memory.

“How did you get so good at shooting? I know you took the required classes at the Garrison, but you could have competed professionally.” Keith said, completely comfortable with the string of compliments that he just gave.

Ever since Lance let his over the top persona fade away while they were alone, Keith had become much looser with his positive reinforcement. Lance had a suspicion that Keith might have caught onto his insecurity issue, but he wasn’t really complaining. It was kinda nice.

Lance blushed, and ran his hand through his shaggy hair. “There was a huge arcade by my house. It had a ton of those VR shooting games that mimicked real life environments.”

“So, you were an arcade rat,” Keith concluded.

“Hey! I will have you know, I held the high score on all the VR shooting ranges in that arcade! They called me Hot Shot.” Lance made the appropriate dramatic arm movements as he defended his arcade honor.

Keith smirked, “now, I’m positive you were an arcade rat, _Ace_.” He said the nickname mockingly this time.

“Was NOT!” Lance crossed his arms, leaned back against the wall and pouted. He wasn’t really mad, but he enjoyed their banter. He felt centered when they were together like this, it made him comfortable being himself, even if later he would fret over every moment of their interaction.

Keith waited for Lance to finish his mock pouting in silence. He scooted back until he was also leaning against the wall. They were cramped in the sniper's nest, but Keith managed to keep any part of them from touching.

Much to Lance’s annoyance, Keith had figured out early on in their friendship that staying quiet was the best way to get Lance to talk. After a solid minute of silence he gave in.

“My older sister used to take me to that arcade all the time, she was the one who called me Hot Shot. But I really did hold the top score in all of them,” Lance huffed.A

“Which sister, Angella or Emma? Neither one sounded like the arcade type from what you’ve told me.”

Lance’s heart clenched, suddenly crushed by the walls he put around it, and he could almost smell the warm ocean air. He didn’t want to go into that topic.

“Your face is an arcade type!” He derailed the conversation at the expense of looking like an idiot.

Keith sputtered, “What does that even mean?”

Lance threw his hands up, “Whatever, lets just get to the hand to hand combat.”

Ooo

A thrill overtook Lance, as he arced gracefully through the air.  Then it was quickly crushed by the heavy fear of the pain he anticipated.

“AHHHH- OOHF.”

Lance’s back met the padded floor with a hearty smack. He groaned, and rolled to his side, wheezing for the air that had been physically slapped from his lungs. All good things come to an end, but why was it always physical pain with Keith? The sadist.

“Why am... I so bad... at this?” He asked between breaths.

Keith stood over Lance, leaned forward, and literally spoke down to him. “You really didn't do that bad, you lasted a whole minute this time, before i kicked your ass.”

Lance waved his sweaty arm in the direction of Keiths face, “don’t you patronize me.”

“Oooh, big words,” Keith mocked.

Lance Laughed and sat up slowly. He could tell when Keith was actually trying to be mean, and when he was just joking. It used to be hard to tell the difference, which was part of the reason they fought so much. Now he felt like he had a good handle on reading Keith.

“Thats me, proprietor of big words for substantial colloquy,” Lance boasted, hands on his hips.

Keith threw a towel in Lance's face and chuckled. “Clean up, we’re moving onto duo training.”

Lance groaned, as he pulled the towel down around his neck, “ _¡Anda ya!_ is that all you ever want to do?”

Keith took a sip of his water pouch, and pretended to consider the question.

“Yes.”

“Fine,” Lance huffed, but he relented. He stood and began to help set up the equipment they needed, muttering some choice words in spanish as he went.

Truthfully, Lance was excited about their duo training, not that he would admit it. He had thought that hand to hand would be the best part of training with Keith, and the theory made sense on the surface. When they spared, Lance got to be close to Keith, and they touched, and grappled… but it wasn’t really what he imagined it would be like. It wasn’t exciting when the touches were sharp jabs to his solar plexus, or sent him hurtling into the mat. The grappling was even worse, having Keith on top of you wasn’t all that great when he was digging his fingers mercilessly into a pressure point, or bending Lance’s arms in directions they weren’t supposed to go. Lance was dissolution very quickly, it didn't pan out the way it did in romance novels. It hurt, and not in the good way.  On the bright side, he felt his body becoming toned with all the sparing.

Lance also had to reevaluate all the times he was jealous of Shiro and Keith training one on one, if this was what they did, then he was stupid for envying Shiro so much.

Lance decided his favorite part of training with Keith was their duo training. When they worked together using their own specialized fighting styles, it was awesome. Lance was either in the sniper's nest, or on ground level covering Keith, while the Red Paladin took on the droids in hand to hand, or with his sword. Over the last couple months of training they had become a well oiled machine, their improvements working together far outstripped any progress they had made trying to learn each others craft.

Tonight they practiced with Lance in the sniper's nest for the first part, and then stimulated his perch crumbling, and causing him to switch to ground cover. Slowly the droids push him to Keith so that he could practice close range cover. He flipped his bayard, and it transformed into a smaller, more maneuverable close range handgun, a trick he perfected only a week ago.

The program they executed was designed by them together. Lance, by accident, discovered that the training room had a user friendly holo interface. It worked in tandem with its voice activated functions, and allowed them to create programs for training. The only problem, was that they needed to know how to read Altean to use it. Lance had volunteered to study the language far enough to use the training room properly. It was a perfect opportunity for him to pick up another distracting hobby, and within a few weeks he had learned enough for them to start cobbling together some programs. Lance liked languages, but never stuck to one long enough to become fluent, other than english. With Altean, he decided to break that habit, something about the language was attractive, and so he continued to study it long after they met their goal.   

Keith had been surprised, he tried to cover it up, but Lance could tell that Keith hadn't expected him to stick to his word, or get it done so fast. Lance didn’t blame him. He had never given anyone a reason to think he was particularly smart, it wasn’t intentionally, it just sorta worked out that way. Lance was always either overwhelmed with social energy and being silly, or trying to overcompensate to cover his insecurities. The only person who would have seen it coming was Hunk, and maybe Pidge, who was to observant for their own good.

Lance and Keith were on their backs, sprawled across floor, the tops of their heads were touching as they tried to catch their breaths. The program deactivated automatically when they finished, now they just needed to collect the energy to get up.

Lance’s body hummed. Chaotic waves of happiness stirred in his chest before they crested in his heart, and it ached. It was a painful joy. This was the feeling he soaked in every time they finished their duo training, he felt so in sync with Keith, it was crazy. Only this time it was better. Lance could almost feel Keith's heat lingering in the back of his mind.

“I think... that was the first time... we finished that damn program... without messing up.”  Keith managed to get out between gasps.

Lance put one of his fists in the air over his head so Keith could see it, “Yes is was, my man.”

Keith weakly lifted his own fist, and tiredly tapped it against Lance’s from their awkward position.

“Pool?” Lance asked.

Keith let his arm flop back to the mat, “yeah Ace, just give me a minute. Still tired.”

Ooo

“Do you remember the Bloodsplotion people?” Lance’s voice echoed in the white tiled pool room.

“What?”

Both boys were  floating carelessly through the water on their backs, staring at the ceiling of the room… Which was the floor when you entered… Their up had become their down, and it hurt Lance's head to think about. All he knew was that everything flipped when you climbed the ladder to the pool.

“You know, the people who fought using their blood? They could make it explode and stuff? Remember how their name was only consonants, and no one could say it except Corran.” Lance splashed with his arms as he explained.

He could hear Keith moving, creating ripples in the water, but he was somewhere behind Lance. When Keith responded, his voice was electricity that arced over Lance’s skin.

“Blood… Splotion? Are you just putting the word blood and explosion together?” Keith laughed, because sometimes the simplest forms of comedy were new to him, and thus still funny.

Lance swallowed thickly,  and tried to collect himself, “Uh, yeah. I wanted to call them Blootion, but Hunk said it sounded like something gross.”

“Hunk’s right, it does sound gross.”  Keith laughed again, and his voice was surprisingly close.  It shocked Lance, but he bit down on the impulse to pull away, and allowed the motion dissipated into a shiver.

“Yeah… yeah, it does.” Lance agreed. His words faded into a whisper when he turned and saw Keith floating by his ear. His hair was a storm cloud, billowing out around his head, in perfect contrast to his smooth skin. His eyes were closed, and Lance stared at the profile of his well organized features. He looked so relaxed, something that was happening more often lately. His breaths were slow, and his face wasn’t pulled tight by the awful thoughts that Lance knew he was plagued by sometimes.

Lance was pleased that Keith was so relax with him, maybe in part because of him. He remember all those months ago when he had wanted to help Keith, now it seems they helped each other a little bit. Lance was still scared of his feelings for Keith, more so now that they’ve grown out of control, and were victim to his anxiety. But they were still warm, and continued to ebb and flow with the boy next to him. Only now, he had some influence over them, because he was Keith’s friend, which meant Lance could spend time with him, to try and sooth his raging emotions.

“So, why were you bringing up the Bloodspl-”

“What are you two doing?” A voice from the entrance interrupted Keith.

Both boys in the pool looked up… or down, or whatever. Pidge was standing in the doorway looking at them.

“Swimming,” Keith said, delivered with an undeniable ‘duh’ subtext.

Lance had to stifle a laugh, the look on Pidges face was priceless, it was torn between irritation and laughter. Lance had discovered that Keith could be very sassy, in a dry humor sorta way, the more relaxed he was, the more sassy he became. Lance assumed the only other team member to see Keith this relaxed was Shiro.

“Do... you guys to this often?” Pidge asked slowly.

“No,” Both boys responded at the same time, calmly. The desire to look at Keith was strong. but Lance restrained himself in the name of believability. This was the first time anyone had caught them hanging out like this. Lance hoped Pidge couldn’t see him shaking with nerves.

“Ok…” Pidge didn’t sound convinced.

“I just wanted to swim, but Mullet head over here was hogging the pool,” Lance snapped.

“I was here first, you tried to kick me out!” Keith barked back.

“I’m the pilot of the Blue Lion, so I should have more right to the pool than-”

“SHUT UP! You guys should be sleeping, we are wormholing really early tomorrow.” Pidge cut off the bickering and pushed up their glasses in aggravation.

“What about you? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Keith demanded.

“Yeah, and you’re not even in a swimsuit, what are you doing in here?” Lance crossed his arms and put on his determined face.

Pidge’s nose scrunched up, and their shoulders dipped when they realized that they had become the  focus of Lance and Keith’s combined irritation.

“Sometimes I come in here to work, because I like to put my feet in the water!” Pidge threw one of their arms up in frustration, the other was holding a tablet.

“Oh… well, don't let us stop you.” Lance shrugged, and began swimming around casually.

“If either of us is stopping them it's you, being pool Hitler.” Keith grouched while paddling around, it was comical, but Lance had to hold back his laughter..

“Did you just call me HITLER?!” Lance stopped his casual stroke, and slapped water in Keith’s face.

Keith retaliated, and they devolved into a petty splash war. They were yelling insults that were drowned out by the sound of their own flailing,

“Never mind, I’ll just go find someplace quieter.” The boys didn't even pause in their fight to acknowledge Pidge, who left the room in a huff, muttering about assholes that make it impossible to work.

As soon as the door hissed closed Lance and Keith stopped splashing.

“Well fuck, that was easy…” Keith muttered, and immediately returned to floating on his back.

Lance watched him for a moment, his eyes quickly roamed over every inch of exposed skin before he forced himself to stop. He recently decided to make an effort to not torture himself. He fell back, and floated in the water alongside Keith.

“We put on a good show,” Lance agreed.

“So, why were you bringing up the Bloodsplotion people?” Keith waved his arms through the water slowly.

Lance chuckled, “Remember when Hunk saved that Bloodsplotion girl from the rampaging, fanged, horse thing with eight legs?”

Keith snorted loudly, a sound that would never pass his lips in front of the rest of the team. “Yeah, he got that cut on his head, and the girl freaked out over his blood. I wasn’t sure if she was going to eat him, or fuck him, maybe both.”

Lance would have choked at such a blunt statement coming from his reserved teammate only a couple of months ago. But once you became Keith's friend, he apparently dropped his filter… or in retrospect, Lance decided he never had a filter. Keith just didn't talk much in front of people, and when he did talk, it was almost always restricted to voltron business, and team building stuff. Honestly, it just made Lance like Keith more.

“Well…” Lance whispered, and swam a little closer to Keith, “I over hear Allura and Shiro talking and…”

“Yeah?” Keith whispered back, not question why they were being so quiet.

Lance smirked and continued at a conspiratorial volume. “It turns out, you aren't far off the mark. Spilling blood for someone on that planet means you have to become their life mate.”

Keith practically barked his laugh, and it echoed around the room. “That explains why Hunk was so pale for days after, I bet Shiro told him.”

Lance snorted into the water, “Yeah, it’s like that time, on the planet with the crazy haired people, and the fruit that you shared with your intended, or whatever. Hunk was one bite away from being married that time too.”

They laughed together, long and hard.

Lance knew he should go to bed, that he would regret this in the morning, but Keith kept bringing up more stories, and Lance let him drag the evening out. He had the feeling Keith didn’t want to sleep either.

Ooo

Lance regretted many things, but at the top of his list right now, was not listening to Pidge the night before. He should have gone to sleep a little earlier, but he lost track of time in the pool. When the idea of sleep would begin to creep into Lance’s mind, Keith would bring up another hilarious story, and Lance would get distracted. Now he was strapped into his seat in the control room, trying to stay awake, as Allura prepared for a wormhole.

Wormhole travel... did very little for the heavy exhaustion that was weighing down Lance’s eyelids. It used to be exciting when they would make a jump. Now, it was a common event in his life.

The castle jostled as they exited the portal, and Lance’s tired body swayed in his seat.

“All right Paladins, you may go about your day. We have team training later so be prepared!” Allura announced, she was a ray of sunshine that morning. Lance was too tired to even try and flirt. He squinted his eyes to block some of her shining personality, unbuckled his harness, and wander off to the lounge for a nap on the circular couch.

Lance spread out on the cushions, and sighed. He hoped that training later wasn’t mind melding. It was becoming harder and harder to not think about Keith all the time, and he was terrified he would slip up and everyone would find out. He was lucky the mind melding was only images, and not a transfer of emotion, or he would already be in deep shit. As it stands now, it takes all his effort to not project a picture of Keith with his head tipped to the side, looking adorable.

He was worried every time they formed Voltron, that someone would notice his crush, even though he knew it was unlikely. Their minds were well like mixed paint, and no single feeling could be picked out. You could tell if dark or light colors were used, and what those colors might have been, but no specifics hues. What they experienced during the bond was literally the average of all their feelings at the same time.

Lance closed his eyes, and his worries floated around his head as he lipped into sleep.

That’s how he began day one, of the travel to Yeppeuda.

Ooo

Some time later, Lance’s consciousness began to float to the surface, despite the oppressive weight that tried to press him back into sleep. Someone was rustling around besides him, the sound impedes Lance’s attempt to slip back into his nap. At first, he thought it was Keith. Sometimes during their late night hang outs, one of them would fall asleep, normally it was Lance.

A subtle, and fluid heat dripped into Lance’s chest, and spread down his limbs. It rose to the surface of his skin.

Then the person made a small sound, and it was distinctly female. It sounded like Allura.

The heat died, and cold surprise knocked the breath from Lance. Allura must have heard it, because she called his name.

“Lance?” her tone was soft, nothing like how she usually spoke to him.

He couldn’t fool her into thinking he was still asleep, so he didn’t try, and instead opened his eyes.

Lance used to have daydreams about waking up next the Princess, and now it was happening, sort of, and all he felt was disappointment because she wasn’t Keith. His feeling for Allura were superficial from the beginning, but now, they were so completely eclipsed by his much deeper feelings for Keith, that they were almost nonexistent.

Lance sat up and politely smiled. They were alone in the lounge, and with no one around to impress he didn’t have it in him to flirt with her. Instead he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and apologized.

“Sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean to nap for so long. Did I miss training?” Now that he had a moment to wake up, he realized how odd it was for Allura to be there, alone, while he was sleeping. He ignored the fact that if it was Keith, he would of been happy, rather than a little creeped out.

Allura gave Lance a puzzled look, seemingly finding something odd as well.

“Are you, OK?” She asked, in the same soft voice that was probably meant to sooth Lance, but was honestly just unsettling, because it was so far outside their usual dynamic.

Lance wasn’t sure if he was OK. There was a cold pressure on his chest. It was familiar, but unwanted, and its arrival weight his limbs down with the feeling of ‘not again’. He tried to waved it off, it was probably just his messed up sleep cycle rebounding. His inability to say no to Keith, was really starting to mess with his well being.

Lance dredged up some of his usual enthusiasm from under the weight, and smirked, “I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well last night. Why? Are you worried, Princess?” He managed some swagger at the end, along with a small eyebrow wiggle. It made him feel dirty, like he was cheating.

“And, what if I am?” Allura countered, and she looked unusually smug.

Lance sputtered, his entire brain came to a crashing halt. Did the Princess just respond to his flirting with something other than disdain?

Allura giggled, “You really wouldn’t know what to do if I responded to your advances, would you?” She covered her mouth as she laughed at him, but her eyes were warm, and he could tell she wasn’t trying to be mean. She never would have backed him into a corner like this if they hadn’t been alone, it wasn’t in her nature to be cruel like that.

Lance chuckled along with her, because she wasn’t wrong. He didn’t have a lot of experience, and even when he was legitimately trying to win her affection, he probably wouldn’t have known what to do if he got it. Especially because she was so very much out of his league, just like Keith.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” Lance backed his words up with a natural smile.

“Good, you were acting out of sorts a while back, although in the last several quintent you have seemed better.”

Alluras ernest words pulled Lance’s smile into a frown. Damn, was he losing his touch?

“You noticed that?” He asked, more fear leaked into his words than he intended.

Allura must have picked up on his fear because she rushed to reassure him. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone else noticed. Shiro only mentioned Voltron feeling strangely heavy. I took it upon myself to study the team and find the source, but when I figured out it was you, I wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, and then you started to improve, and Shiro commented that Voltron felt better than before and… I’m rambling aren't I?”

Lance laughed, it was open and warm, and the weight on his chest lessened. He had never seen the Princess so flustered before, and over him of all things. Sometime, Lance forgot how seriously Allura took her position as the commander of Voltron, and how inexperienced she was at some aspects of it. She wasn’t much older than himself, and had suddenly gain the responsibility of the known universe. She probably felt like it was her duty to keep the Paladins in good shape, not just physically, but also mentally, and she had no idea how to go about accomplishing the second part. If Lance had been in her place, he wouldn’t have known how to approach himself either.

Even the Princess was awkward sometimes, and that knowledge made Lance want to put her at ease, because his desire to help other often overrode his own discomfort, he liked to call it his ‘crisis mode’.  

“Is that the reason you were creepily hanging around me while I was sleeping… all alone… and vulnerable?” He pulled a horrified face, as he poked fun at her in a way he normally reserved for Hunk or Pidge, and secretly Keith.

“I was NOT being creepy!” Allura defended with a huff, but her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. She reached to her left, pulled out a familiar bag and thrust it at Lance. “I was also here to give you this!”

All of Lance’s confidence drained into his stomach, and cooled into a hard pit. He took his knitting bag from her and didn’t bother to try and hide his red face. He wanted to sink into the floor and cease to exist, because Allura knew he knitted. He sighed, tired of his own fluctuating emotions.

“I found it in the training room, and Hunk said it was yours.” She elaborated when Lance just sat in mortified silence.

He was going to kill Hunk. it was common knowledge in Lance's family that he knitted, and that included his big cuddly best friend, but he didn’t often tell people. A wave of embarrassment pressed down Lance's words, and he couldn’t break the surface to respond.

“What is it?” Allura asked, and pointed at the bag.

Lance wanted to slap himself in the face, or scream, or do anything to relieve the jumble of mixed emotions that flooded him. He wasn’t sure if her not knowing about knitting, was better, or worse. He could explain it and hope she didn’t judge him, or he could say nothing and run… or he could lie. Lance pondered the third option for a second, and then dismissed it. He could imagine the hundreds of ways that could go wrong in a sitcom episode sort of way.  

He settled on just explaining it to her. Of all the things he kept to himself, this wasn't that bad, right? His friends wouldn’t care, they were in space for crying out loud, who gave a shit about gender roles in space? He knew being worried about it in the first place was stupid, he just couldn’t help it. An entire lifetime worth of being told to ‘man up’ or be the ‘man of the family’ was hard to shake off. But here was his chance to start over, in space, talking to a Princess, who probably had no idea about earth gender role to begin with.  

“It's my knitting stuff.” He pushed the words out, past layers of conditioning.

“Knitting?” It was clear the word meant nothing to her. Lance let the rising panic wash away with that realization. The translator couldn’t define words that had no equivalent in Altean, and Lance couldn’t think of a word from his time studying the language, but there had to be something similar to knitting in her culture.

“Crocheting?” He tried.

She shook her head.

“Weaving?”

A spark of recognition, “Yes, we do that with our hair, when we put it up.”

“We call that braiding,” Lance responded automatically. But then the meaning of what Allura said sank in. She had no concept of crafting clothes by hand. She didn't even relate weaving to baskets or fabric, only to hair styles.

“How did people on Altea make clothes?” Lance asked slowly.

“Make them?” She looked honestly perplexed, “people bought clothes. Does earth not have clothing shops?”

Lance laughed nervously, “Uh, yeah we do… but what about like… fashion designers and stuff, where did your clothes come from?”

The confusion cleared from Allura's face, “Oh, you mean clothes synthesizers.”

“What?” Lance had a picture in his head of what a clothes synthesizer would be, but he had trouble believing it was real. Earth had machines that made clothes, but they were limited, and someone had to design the clothes and make it by hand first.

“You know, a clothes synthesizer. You input a design and the computer makes it, people with exceptional design skills came up with some very popular outfits.” Allura explains in her usual chipper tone.

Lance put his face in his hands for a moment, he has trouble wrapping his head around the idea of a magic clothes machine. More accurately, he has trouble accepting that someone existed who had no idea where clothe came from. Was it because Altea was so advanced, or was it because Allura was so high class, being royalty and all? Lance remembered the space mall store that he got the ‘yarn’ from, and decided it was probably a mix of both. Life in space never ceased to be interesting.

“What about the cloth your clothes are made of?” He asked, trying to work backwards to figure this out.

Allura tapped her chin in thought. “The synthesizer makes the cloth at the same time as the clothes.” She sighed, “the castle synthesizer hasn’t worked since we woke up, Coran, Pidge and Hunk can’t seem to figure out why.”

Lance rubbed his shaggy hair and laughed, it came out high and strained. He has no basis for interacting with Allura like this, they almost never spoke casually and alone. The entire situation is very reminiscent of the night on the observation deck when he first became friends with Keith, except less terrifying, because he didn’t have a debilitating crush on the Princess. Thinking back on that night helped Lance relax, he should employ the same strategy he did back then, treat Allura as if she were Hunk.

Lance looked at her dress carefully, and for the first time realized there were almost no seams, except for aesthetic use. Lance could imagine a machine creating the dress in one big piece, like a 3D printer. This is going to somewhat like trying to explain how to make a snowman to someone who doesn't know what snow, or a man is.

“Why don’t I just show you?” His voice cracked, and he pushed down the desire to smack himself for it. All those times he wanted to get Allura alone, he never thought that their activity would be knitting when he finally did.

Allura smiled, it was bright and excited. “Yes!”

Lance would have expected her to be more wary of him after all the time he spend hitting on her, but she wasn’t. She was genuinely interested in what he had to say, and not at all uncomfortable sitting alone with him. He wondered if this was an indication of her level of self preservation.

Lance came to terms with two things simultaneously. First, Allura must have never taken his pick up lines seriously, even at the beginning when he was trying, and second, he had been stunting the growth of any friendship between them by insistently flirting with her.

Another thought drapes itself casually over Lance's mind, did the Princess have any friends? Not mentors like Corran, or a co-leader like Shiro, but a real friend. She had the mice… Lance crinkled his nose at that thought. What it boiled down to, was that Allura wasn’t close to anyone on the ship as a friend. The nearest thing she had was Shiro, but they only ever talked about war and artfully avoided their romantic tension.

Lance felt a stab of pity, and expertly veiled it,  he knew the Princess wouldn't appreciate the sentiment. She was smiling, and patiently waiting for him to demonstrate knitting, while radiating innocent curiosity, and it pulled a smiled out of him.

Lance took out the big needles and yarn with a flourish. He carefully detached the Slav sweater he was making and set up with a new ball of puffy blue yarn. He allowed himself to fall into a comfortable place between himself and who he pretended to be, it came much easier than expected. He was nowhere near as open as he was with Hunk, or even Keith, but he dropped the overcompensation and flirting. Lance felt like it was time to put that behavior behind him in Allura’s case. Maybe he didn’t need to hide behind it as much anymore.

“Knitting, is one way people make clothes, without the clothes synthesizer thingy.” Lance smirked -without eyebrow waggle- and began a garter stitch. “Right now, I’m just making the very first line, I can decided if I want a blanket, sweater or gloves. I planned on just making a blanket from this blue yarn.”

Allura watched his hands, she was completely entranced, “humans, do this for fun?” She asked without looking away.

Lance paused in his knitting to wipe his hair from his face. “Yeah, or they do it, and give the clothes to friends, or donate the poor, or just to relax.” He shrugged.

A couple minutes passed in silence until Lance got to the length he wanted for one square of the blanket. He pushed his hair away again, and then held the knitting out for Allura to see closer.

“Now, I have the beginning of one square of the blanket.” He continued,, and explained counting the loops of yarn around the needle. He showed her how the square grew with each pass, back and forth, between the needles. “So you make as many squares as you need, depending on how big of a blanket you want, and then you connect them. I was going to use a different pattern stitch for some of the other squares.”

“There are different patterns?” Allura sounded very impressed.

Lance blushed and swiped at his hair again.

“Yeah, different types of stitches…” He trailed off and began knitting again. he had not expected her to find knitting so interesting.

He finished four squares of the garter stitch while the Princess just watched. At first it made him a little uncomfortable, but her fascination was endearing, and he began to settle in. Sometimes, even after everything that had happened so far, there were moments that still made Lance ask, how is this my life? Having a space princess, watch you knit with rapt attention, was one of those moments.

“Could... you make me something?” Allura asked quietly.

Her question slammed into Lance’s mind, and he recognizes the slight nervousness on her face. He blinked, what could possibly be making her nervous? The very idea that it was Lance almost made him laugh, which probably wouldn’t go over well at the moment.

“Like, a sweater?” He asked, keeping his cool.

She beamed like a sun, and it swept away any uncertainty.

“Would you?!” She clasped her hands together as if she was praying for him to say yes.

He nodded, slowly, and she practically bounced off the couch in excitement. He wasn’t sure how to react to this version of Allura, but he couldn't deny the distinctly pleased feeling that welled up in him. She made him feel proud of his hobby, like his family used to when they asked him to make things, he had missed that more than he realized. His chest ached and it pushed on his heart, it was painful pleasure. The pain of his homesickness clashed with this new contentment. Maybe he should rethink his strategy of treating Allura like Hunk, and consider treating her more like...  Lance pushed his thoughts aside, and blinked quickly to soothe his burning eyes.

He reached into his bag and pulled out pale pink yarn, that was puffy like the blue one. “How about I make it in this color?”

Allura agreed, and Lance finished off the fifth square of the blanket before switching projects. She watched him work and asked questions. They sat together while he worked for almost an hour. Surprisingly, no one wandered into the lounge to disrupt them.

Lance pushed his hair out of his eyes for the fifth time in ten minutes, he practically growled when it flopped back down only moments later.

Without warning, Allura lean forward and reached out. With warm fingers she touched his forehead. Lance dropped his needles and stilled. Panic simmer under his skin, prepared to bubble up in defense, but Allura only swept his bangs back, flat against his head. There was a light click, and she sat back.

He looked at her with wide eyes. Her face was once more nervous, or maybe hopeful, the two emotions resembled each other at times. The front of Allura’s hair, that was previously pulled back with a pink clip, hung loose around her face. Lance reached up to touched his own hair, and felt the clip. It was the size of his index finger, and held his fringe in place a few inches from his hairline. It was something one of his sisters would have done.

Lance was plunged into an ocean of emotions, cold and brisk. It hurt, but it was also wonderful. Slowly the water warmed, and the heat sank into him, overwhelmed him, and welled up.

He wasn’t going to cry… nope. Lance picked up his knitting, and went back to work. If Allura noticed the shine of his eyes, she didn’t say anything. He smiled at her, without any flirtatious undertones, or snark, and was rewarded with a relaxed smile in return. Now he was sure he had seen hope, even it was was cheek to cheek with nerves.

Lance felt a shift, and he decided, or perhaps the decision happened before he consciously thought it, that he didn’t care who knew about his knitting.

Ooo

Later in the evening Allura’s voice called the Paladins for training, as was promised that morning. Lance put down the pink sweater he was working on, and admired it for a moment. It was turning out better than he had hoped. He felt like a wall was breached, one that previously separated him from Allura, and now they could finally form a normal friendship. The thought sent a buzz through his body. The idea of having another friend, someone he could be more himself with, was exhilarating.

Lance suited up and left his room. He was adrift in a sea of thoughts as he wandered to the training deck. He actually felt like he could use some training, which was unusual, but his mood was good, and he had a nap. There was nothing that could bring him down, even being the last to arrive.  

Lance’s entrance was met with the normal level of enthusiasm, followed by an abnormal silence. The click of the door closing echoed in the quiet. Everyone was looking at him, and he met their eyes one at a time, as he tried to figure out what was wrong. His eyes landed on Keith last, and Lance held him in a steady gaze. Keith’s face was red, and Lance wasn’t sure why, but then Keith pointed at the top of his own head. Lance mimicked the gesture, and his fingers touched something hard in his hair.

The clip.

Lance had forgotten to take the clip out.

He reached up and frantically tried to figure out how to unclasp it, but his fingers kept slipping, and his hands were shaking. Everyone was watching. His chest collapsed under the weight of their stares, and he tried to pretend this wasn’t happening.

Not again, he didn't want to do this anymore, but he didn’t know how to stop it.

A voice broke through Lance’s  rushing thoughts, only a moment before a tidal wave of panic crashed down on his head.

“Leave it,” they said, It was Pidge.

Lance’s hand stopped, and he looked down at the smallest paladin.

They smiled up at him.

“It looks good,” Pidge admitted, and broke eye contact to look at their feet. “And it keeps the hair out of your eyes.”

Everyone else nodded, even Keith -who was still a little red for some reason-, and Hunk followed up with an enthusiastic, “yeah!”

Pidge was normally made of prickly words and sass, but when they looked back up at Lance, their face was open for the barest moment, accepting and understanding.

Slowly, Lance’s arms came down to his sides, where they rested, limp. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but the uncontrollable flood of panic receded to a manageable distance. It was still there, looming, always prepared to come crashing down, but for now, he was OK. Which was good, because there wasn’t anything he could do about situation, a sentiment he really needed to indulge in more often.  

“Thanks.” Lance felt the word cut through his fear, as it left his mouth.

“Right!” Allura broke the moment, “Time for training, shield circle everyone!” She smiled softly at Lance, and his mood lifted.

Lance fell into his usual groove and smiled, big and goofy. “Yeah! I’m gunna kick all your asses!”

Hunk laughed and threw his arm around Lance’s shoulders. “You can’t win team training, Lance.”

“Oh, Hunk of little faith, there is always a way to win! Even if it means sharing the victory.” Lance assured him, and looked for Keith. He had a plan.

The acceptance of his team from only moments ago, filled Lance with excitement. It curled out from his chest, and floated on his skin, he felt like he was glowing. He caught Keith’s eye from across the room, and smirked at him, silently communicating what he wanted.

Keith raised an eyebrow, that clearly meant ‘really?’, and then shrugged in acceptance.

Ever since they started training together, they had tried not to draw attention to how in sync they had become. They didn’t want anyone getting curious and nosey. They wanted their time to stay strictly their own. Lance knew he wanted the time with Keith for personal reason -namely his huge crush- and he assumed that Keith just didn’t bond easily, and was more comfortable one on one.

But just this one time, Lance wanted to show off a bit. He wanted to keep this amazing high going, and what better way than being the best at training?

All five members of team voltron formed a circle with their shields ready. Without warning the training exercise began. Everyone scrambled to protect themselves, and their teammates from the barrage of laser fire. Their movements, although frantic, were much more organized than the first time they tried this, but failure was only a matter of time.

The first to go down was Hunk. He cried out about the injustice of tiny shields, as he fell through the hole on the floor. The four remaining paladins closed the space he left behind. They formed a square, Pidge across from Shiro, and Lance across from Keith, with all their backs facing inward.

Hunk wandered back into the room, and plopped to the floor to watch. The difficulty increased over time, and after two minutes of survival the laser frequency went up. The next to go down was surprisingly, Shiro. A laser went over Pidge, it was to high for them to reach with their shield in time, and it hit Shiro square in the back of his head. He let out an undignified yelp of surprise when he fell.

With only three left they formed a triangle. Lance had expected Pidge to go down quickly, but they managed to hang on with reflexes born from years of video games. The minutes crawled by as the difficulty climbed, Lance was drenched with sweat. This was the longest they had ever made it, even with just him and Keith practicing. It turns out, Pidge is awesome at this exercise. They normally lost because of someone else being out of sync (mostly Keith and Lance). But now, with no huge height difference, and everyone focused, the three of them were kicking ass.

Lance smiled, even as his arm ached when he reached out to protect Keith's head. His side hurt, and his legs were shaking, but he was in the zone. His mind was clear, almost blank, except for a loud and persistent hum. It was low, and deep in the back of his awareness. It whispered to him, and he reacted to it almost unconsciously. He moved according to its direction, even before he registered what he had done. As the practice continued, another sound seeped into his mind, it was higher, and weaker, but just as unceasing.

Lance began to listen to the sounds with intent, and he pulled them further to the front of his consciousness, it felt right. He took cues from their subtle guidance, and with each movement, he protected Keith or Pidge with his shield… almost as if he knew where they were going to be, a second before they moved…

Was… this… mind melding without the helmet… or Voltron? It felt different… but...

A deep rumble broke through Lance’s stuttering thoughts, warm, proud, and clearly a confirmation of his conclusion. Lance was so surprised to hear Blue, while this far from the hanger, that he completely stopped moving, his shield arm dropped, and he took a laser right to the sternum.

Lance barely register the feeling of falling, as darkness overtook his vision. He landed on the large, soft mats that were below the floor. He stayed on his back, looking at the ceiling. The presence of Blue and Pidge was gone from his mind, and what he thought was Keith, became only a simmering heat, almost unnoticeable. Lance wasn’t even sure if it had happened.

Two holes opened above him almost simultaneously. Pidge landed on Lance’s right, and Keith on his left, they both stayed on their backs, like Lance did.

There was only the sound of their heavy breathing in the dim room.

Pidge broke the silence first. “So… are we all going to just ignore the weird psychic awareness thing that just happened?”

Keith and Lance both made a noise that could have been the beginning of a response, but failed to actually speak.

“It wasn't very strong, but it was definitely there.” Pidge sat up as they spoke. “Of course, it _would_ take a magical mental bond to make you two work together that well,”  they snarked.

Lance wasn’t sure how to respond, because his connection, with what he assumed was Pidge, had been weak like they described. It had been a echo in comparison to the powerful sound of Keith. Lance was sure that Keith had experienced the same thing.

“Yeah,” Lance forced out. He sat up and looked at Keith, who was looking back at him with a perplexed expression.

“We should probably tell Allura…” Keith dragged himself to his feet. He turned and offered both his hands, one for Lance and one for Pidge.

Together they climbed back to the surface.

Ooo

To say Allura was ecstatic, was a huge understatement. She had been thoroughly impressed by their display during training, but when she found out about the weird mental link, she let out a legitimate squeal. She went on a rant about how she thought it was odd that they had suddenly improved so much. She explained that the bond they felt was the natural progression of the Paladin connection they shared. She continued to express her surprise about how soon it happened, and that it happened with Keith and Lance out of everyone. She was quick to assure them that the bonding process was long, and not to expect this every time they trained.

Keith and Lance pretended to be just as surprised at their teamwork as everyone else.

Pidge explained what it felt like, and assured Allura it was a weak hum, that they almost didn’t notice at first. Lance didn’t correct anything they said, and Keith also kept quiet about how strong their bonded moment was. No one mentioned hearing their Lion, so Lance didn’t say anything. Maybe he would ask Keith about it later.

Alone in his room, Lance went over the events carefully, while he worked on his blue blanket. Allura’s sweater was finished, and folded neatly next to him. He decided to ignore the entire bonded thing, and the fact that he heard blue, until something else happened. Allura told them not to force anything, and Lance was perfectly happy to pretend it didn’t happen. As if he couldn’t feel the warm spot in his head, that was like the residual heat of a recently vacated chair, Keith’s heat.

Lance yawned. His phone said he should have gone to sleep an hour ago. He put his knitting away, but didn't get up to do his skin care. He still kept the cracked jar on his sink, he could have found a new one, but he didn’t. He felt like it was a good reminder of how low he could fall, but tonight he didn't think he could look at it, or in the mirror.

He curled up under his blanket, pushed down the nagging worry that he normally soothed with his nightly ritual, and went to sleep.

Ooo

Day two dawned without Lance. The lights in his room automatically brightened, but his eyes stayed firmly shut. He didn’t exist. He couldn’t feel himself being crushed under the weight of reality, if he didn’t exist, and that was an appealing notion.

Lance grabbed onto his heavy feelings, and worked to push them off his chest. They were holding him to the bed, making it hard to breath. Every morning he struggled with them, some days they weighed more than others. Recently his mornings had been easier, but after his nap yesterday the familiar pressure of his depression returned.

Lance hoped it was a fluke, but this morning it was worse, and he should of seen it coming. His mood peaked and fell in a predictable pattern. He wanted to rationalize it, find the cause and label it, so that he could repair himself. But he almost never found the source, if there even was one.

He felt full, his mind and his limbs. The weight that was restraining him was thick, and mixed with longing. He had an idea of what was fueling it this time, but he didn’t want it to be true. He didn’t want to tell anyone, it wasn’t something he was ready to talk about.

He continued to deny the problem, knowing what would happen. If he hid his depression like a dirty secret, it would grow. It would become heavier every morning, so heavy he wouldn’t be able to breathe, or move. Every morning would be agony, and his life would become a game of pain versus fear, until he woke up and discovered that pain won.

Lance rolled over, and got a face full of pink sweater. He still needed to give it to Allura, and he was excited to do it.

Giddy anticipation was buoyant, and Lance lifted the suddenly lighter burden from his body, so he could start his day.

He rolled off his bed, and grabbed his hair clip on his way to the bathroom.

Ooo

At breakfast Allura had announced that they were free to do as they pleased for the day. When the meal was finished Hunk left with Pidge to work on a project. He promised Lance hang out time later, but Lance waved him off, knowing he would catch Hunk in the kitchen before dinner for some quality time.

Keith also vanished the moment he was done eating, Shrio was close behind, which meant they were heading to the training deck.  

Lance was left with Allura and Coran. He could see Coran looking between them, waiting for their usual interaction. First Lance says something cheesy, and then Allura leaves, end scene. But Lance didn't want things to be like that anymore, he was better than that, and didn’t want to hide behind the grandstanding. On the other hand, if he could get the courage to drop pick up lines on Keith, that would be a different story.

Lance smirked at his own thoughts. He saw Coran tense, preparing for the awkward moment. But Lance had other plans, he reached under the table and into his knitting bag. He pulled out the rolled up sweater. Before he could raise it above the table, a wall of nerves came crashing down. He immediately felt sick, But he focused his mind on how excited she was yesterday.

He could do this, be friends, and be himself.

Lance lifted the sweater. Allura looked up, and the moment she saw the soft, pink yarn, her entire face brightened.

“Is it done?” She reached out with both hands without waiting for an answer.

Lance stood, and leaned over the table to hand her the sweater. His mind was unraveling with anxious thoughts. Would she like it? Was she going to laugh? Make fun of it? He mind desperately wanted to fall back on the familiar, and he could feel a pick up line wiggling up his throat.

NO, NOPE, STOP. he screamed at himself, but it was no use.

“I bet you will look out of this world…” The words came out choppy against Lance’s attempts to stop them. He back pedaled, “Get it? Because we’re in space… well, on a ship… so I guess... the world part doesn't make sense…” Good job Lance, great damage control. Why was he like this?

Lance cringed away, prepared for Allura’s dismay.

“Well, I guess I will just have to look out of this ship then, won't I?” She replied, and laughed.

Allura was laughing so hard at her own come back, that she doubled over.

Lance turned to Coran, but he was smothering his own laughter and surprise with his hand.

What was even happening?

The laughter died down, and Allura jumped from her seat. “Wait here, I’m going to change.” She rushed from the room.

Lance sat back in his chair, with wide eyes. Allura play flirted back, like friends, and she laughed. Comforting and bubbly feelings welled up, and he couldn’t help but make parallels between the Princess and his sisters. He liked this new dynamic.

“Good job. I haven’t seen her so happy since before we woke up.” Coran smiled fondly in the direction Allura scampered off.

Lance blushed. He was always uncomfortable with praise, even if he yearned for it. The fact that it was Coran’s praise made him ache, as if he was being praised by the father he never met.

“I didn’t do anything…” Lance denied, and reached up to rub his hair, only to touch his clip instead.

Coran looked at Lance, his smile still just as fond and soft, “But, you did. You treated her like a friend, and not a leader.” He stood up and put a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “There’s a reason you’re my favorite,” he put a finger to his lips, “don’t tell the others.” He stage whispered.

Then Coran straightened up, and shook off the moment as if it never happened. “Well, I have some Castle maintenance to do!” He chirped and sauntered out of the room.

Lance stared after him, as his awkward surprise melted into a comforting ball of warmth. He held the feeling close, and used it to smother the tinge of pain that came along with it. Coran really was the best.

Allura came back into the room with a burst of energy, she held out her arms and spun. The pink sweater was a little big, as all comfortable sweaters should be, and it hung loose over black bottoms that looked like earth leggings.  

“So, how do I look?” She asked, with a cheeky grin.

The tight grip Lance kept on himself, loosened a little more.

He shot finger guns at Allura. “Out of this ship, Princess,” he said, and his entire demeanor was playful.

“I really love it, Lance. Thank you, again.” Allura folded in on herself, her hands clutched the bottom of her sweater.

Lance decided that being unsure, was not a good look for the Princess, and he spoke before he stopped to think.

“Why don’t we top this look off with a Lance Patented braid?” He offered, it was something he used to do for his sisters, and so the words slipped from him naturally.

The switch from uncertain, to elated, was so fast, it gave Lance whiplash.

Allura clapped her hands together, “Really?”

The brief embarrassment Lance had felt was blown away, and he nodded.

They moved to the lounge. Lance sat on the couch, and Allura took a seat on the floor in front of him. He hesitated for a second, his fingers hovered over Allura’s loose bun. He was scared, new territory always frightened him, but he let Corans words blanket his fear, and dampen his anxiety.

When Lance freed Allura’s silver hair she began to talk. He started a fishtail braid at the top of her head and relaxed into the conversation.

“Where did you learn to weave hair?” The question was innocent. Allura didn’t know she was touching a sensitive topic.

“From my sisters.” Lance tried to keep his tone light, but it was strained with the effort to sound normal.

After that, Allura moved on to different topics. Lance noticed the conversation slide into gossip, apparently the mice saw a lot more than anyone knew, and they told the Princess everything. Lance wondered if she knew about him and Keith's meetups. She didn't say anything, and if she did know, she wasn’t telling anyone, so he decided not to ask. Ignorance was bliss, in this case.

_“Where do you get all the beauty products you use?”_

_“I found them in the mirror cabinet in my bathroom.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“I thought those were locked.”_

_“Mine wasn’t, I guess.”_

Their conversation flowed, and stayed fairly superficial. Although, Shiro tended to come up a lot, and Lance couldn’t help the knowing tone that slipped into his voice.

_“Oh, so you only watch Shiro train for tactical purposes, right? No other reason? Like how sometimes he takes off his shir-”_

_“No! I only wish to know the limits of my paladins, and he’s been quiet since his return, I just worry… his superior fitness simply comes with the territory.”_

Hanging out with Allura was nothing like hanging out with Keith, but it also filled a place that was previously empty inside of Lance. He got the distinct feeling that Allura felt the same.

Lance remembered when Pidge revealed their gender, and how Allura had tried to seek out a sisterly bond with the youngest paladin. But Pidge, was Pidge, -which is awesome-  and it didn't work out the way the Princess had hoped.

Lance, as it turns out, could offer the things Allura was looking for. All he had to do was get his head out of his own ass. He wondered if she thought it was weird, that she found what she was seeking from Pidge, in Lance.

He hoped not, because this felt natural for him.

Ooo

Lance focused on the vastness of space, that was just beyond the window of the observation deck. There was no team training, or training with Keith, but Lance knew, if he sat here long enough, Keith would show up. It was late in their day cycle, and Allura had gone to help Coran. Lance had spent some time in the kitchen with Hunk, as promised, but now he was alone. After dinner, everyone had gone their separate ways again, taking advantage of their free time.

A hum glided through Lance's mind, it was fiery, and familiar. He grabbed it, and held on as it grew stronger. Suddenly, the feeling was punctuated by the sound of the doors sliding open.

Lance looked over his shoulder at Keith.

“Did you feel that?”

Keith nodded, and made his way to the couch. He gracefully leapt over the back and landed next to Lance.

“Do you think we should worry about it?” Lance asked. He fidgeted with the tablet in his lap nervously.

Keith pulled out his own tablet and turned it on. A Glara language lesson flickered into view. “No, Allura said it's supposed to happen.” He answered without looking up.

Lance refocused on his screen, and tried to review his Altean lesson, but failed to focus. “I mean, I thought it was a battle only type of thing … and then just now, I knew you were close by, like _knew_.”

Keith exhaled slowly, and put his tablet down in his lap. “I don’t think it's a big deal. During training I could feel your intentions a lot better than Pidge’s, and it's probably because of all our one on one training. This is just an extension of that.”

Lance didn't understand how Keith could be so calm about this. They were _mind melding_ outside Voltron, and it felt different… but Keith just accepted it. Lance stared at the side of Keith’s face, and tried to decipher how he functioned.

Keith noticed the staring, his eyes flickered to Lance, and he sighed through his nose.

“Listen…” He started, stopped, and then rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sighed again.

The single word was sharpened by Keith’s unsure tone, and wielded awkwardly, it made Lance nervous.  

I… if it…” Keith blushed and stumbled over his words. “When… it happens outside battle with the others, like Allura said. Then, I might be more uncomfortable… But, I don’t mind this.” He gestured between himself and Lance, “because it's you.”

Lance's mind filled with the roar of possible responses, all of them fighting for attention, ultimately leaving him speechless. As the silence stretched on, Keith began to turn in on himself. He shifted away from Lance, with his eyes down cast.

He turned away and began to stand, when finally, Lance’s mental word kodoku resolved.  The response that won was simple, honest, and unconsciously slipped from his mouth.

“Why?”

Keith paused halfway off the couch, he looked over his shoulder at Lance. All previous signs of his insecure embarrassment were erased, and replaced with disbelief. He sat back on the couch, closer than before.

“What do you mean, Why?” Keith was incredulous and angry.

Lance defensively mirrored Keith's tone, “What _do you_ mean by asking me, why, why?!”

Keith didn’t rise to the banter. “No, we are not doing that. I want a real answer.” Now he looked concerned but still angry, as he turned, and put a hand on Lance’s arm. The action was as shocking as it was  awkward, and spoke volumes about how often Keith volatility touched people.

“Ace…” Keith let the nickname trail off, and Lance could hear his questions in the silence.

Why do you need to ask? Do you think so little of yourself? Do you think so little of me?

Keith squeezed Lance’s arm, and leaned closer, as if he was trying to see something just below the surface of a pond. Lance recognized the moment when Keith saw it, because his eyes grew larger, and his mouth parted just a bit. Then, the weight of the realization pressed down on Keith's shoulders, and they sagged when he asked,

“Do you not... like yourself?”

Fear, all encompassing and cold, spilled out around Lance to form an ocean. Keith saw him, really saw him… and that knowledge weighted Lance down, dragged his head under the surface of his own inferiority and insecurity. He grabbed at his chest when it tightened around his weak heart, but he only clutched his shirt, and curled in, wrapping himself around the pain. He tried to breath again, and only managed a stuttered whine.

The question wasn’t completely unexpected. Lance knew that Keith had caught onto his insecurities, and some of his anxiety, but he didn’t think he gave himself away. Keith wasn’t the first person so figure it out, but no one had asked so directly before, and it was like being thrown off a cliff. All you could do was fall, and wait for the end. The fact that it was Keith who asked only made it worse.

The hand Keith had on his arm tightened, and Lance clung to it, to hold himself above water. He grasped for words, something that could save the moment. Because he didn’t want to do this, more than anything, more than fighting in the war.

He could turn this around, derail the conversation, but the words formed around the tears that struggled to the surface.  

“I...I…” Was all Lance managed to say, before the hand on his arm tugged him forward, and he was press into something warm and solid. Shock dried up every other emotion Lance had been struggling with, because Keith never hugged people, but he was hugging Lance.

Keith let go of Lance’s arm to hold him around the shoulders, while his other hand rested on the back of his head. Keith didn’t try to sooth him, or rub his back, he just held on, and Lance could finally breath. He wrapped his arms around Keith's waist, and pressed his face into Keith's neck to hide his watering eyes. He was so relieved that he wasn’t pushed away, and it overwhelmed him. He knew, he was taking advantage of this rare moment of comfort, but he didn’t care, when was he going to be this close again? This was the first time Keith had been this close to him since their ‘bonding moment’.

“I kinda figured it out... that you didn’t really feel as confident as you acted,” Keith admitted softly.

“What gave me away?” Lance whispered into Keith’s skin, and reveled in the shiver he thought he felt.

“Well, once you get close enough it’s not hard to notice, even for someone as socially inept as me. You really do hold everyone at arm's length, with your jokes, and grandstanding.” Keith explained.

Lance reluctantly pulled back to look Keith in the eyes, even though he was sure his own eyes were red. “I’ve been trying to work on that… Hunk said I should.” He looked down at his lap, his arms still loose around Keith's middle.

A warm hand slid under Lance’s chin and tipped his face up, Keith smiled when he caught Lance’s eyes again. “Ace, it’s obvious you care a lot about the team, like I’ve told you before, You’re better at people than me. You’re good at knowing what they need, and it's kinda awesome.”

“Awesome?” Lance was skeptical, and his voice was rough with emotion. He could see how it would seem that way from the outside, to Keith, but Lance was always so scared of rejection… was everyone else seeing something he didn’t see in himself?

“Yeah, I suck at that. I never know what to say, I’m struggling right now, but I want to help.” Keith let a nervous laugh slip out as he spoke. “Should I just start telling you good things, like complements or something, Until you believe them?”

Ummm…” Lance stalled out, his feelings for Keith flooded his mind like a car's gas line, and he couldn’t get his engine to turn over.

Keith went forward with his compliments plan. He tapped the pink clip in Lance’s hair, and said, “I like this look.”

Lance couldn’t move, his mind was still idle, but his blood had no problem rushing to his face. He didn't know what to say. Normally Keith complemented his skills, not his looks, and they would high five or fist bump, but that seemed strangely inappropriate for this situation.

“I… heh,” Lance’s voice let him down. Very good, eloquent. Not awkward at all.

Keith blushed, finally having the decency to be embarrassed. “I’m sorry… I… that was a line wasn’t it?” He asked, his hands moved to Lance’s shoulders, as if Keith was going to push him away, but didn’t.

“Wha…?” Lance wanted to slap himself, but he was trapped in the iron shackles of mortification. His mind was screaming, REASSURE HIM, but his mouth wouldn’t move, and he watched as something vulnerable surfaced in Keith.

“A social line, I crossed a line... you know I’m bad at this… I said something weird, the complementing thing was stupid…sorry.” Keith stumbled, his voice cracked, and he tipped his head to the side as he apologized, carefully avoiding eye contact… He looked like he might cry.

Lance’s brain was kicked back into gear. The sight of Keith, flushed, head cocked, trying to smile reassuringly and failing, it was too much.

“No, no, It’s OK!... it helps.” Lance managed to squeak out, and Keith ducked his head. Lance was beginning to understand... Keith was putting himself out there, making himself as vulnerable as he made Lance with his simple question, so that they were square. A simple hug, an easy feat for Lance with his friends, was a lot for Keith, and it broke through some sort of wall he had erected.

Lance was suddenly aware of how close together they were. All the fear and anxiety was swept away by want. He wanted to kiss Keith, hold him, touch him. Keith’s hands on his shoulders burned, it spread through his chest, and it felt so different from the burn of drowning alone. For a moment, Lance could forget what he felt when he looked in a mirror, or tried and failed to be himself with the team. He didn’t need to brag or overcompensate, he was OK.

Then the fear was back, Because Lance was afraid that he would mess it up. He didn’t want to be the one to cross the line, and lose Keith's friendship. He began to pull away, but the hands on his shoulders tightened, and held him in place.

“Don’t…” Keith's voice was tight. The sharp edge of his tone grazed Lance’s skin, and raised goose bumps.

Now that Lance wasn’t washed away in his own self pity, he was aware of the shift in Keith, it was building up to something. He wanted to help, it overshadowed his own feelings, but he wasn’t confident he would do the right thing. Lance looked at the top of Keith’s bowed head, he was trembling. The hands on his shoulders continued to tighten, and only stopped a breath away from pain.

This was a delicate moment. So he stayed still, and silent, while he waited for Keith to collect himself.

“I… Don’t want you to move away.” Keith finally spoke. His sounded calmer, and his hands loosened, but his head remained down.

Lance’s heart jumped, but didn’t let his hopes get too high. He waited for Keith to explain.

“I don’t normally like physical touch.” Keith went on, as blunt as usual, but there was a hesitancy that had become uncommon between them. “But, when I trust someone, it can be nice. I just don’t trust a lot of people… so. I don’t… Get a lot of welcomed touch.”

 _Oh…_ Lance’s mind registered the subtext, and it echoed in the space between the lines. Keith never talked about his past, and now Lance had a very vague, but disturbing, idea of why. The emptiness inside of him, that was reserved for his own self flagellation, filled with hurt for Keith. But selfish warmth welled up along side the pain, because Keith trusted him, and thought hugging him was nice, he couldn’t even feel bad about it.

Lance hope Keith's words were an invitation to touch, as he reached out, and brushed back long dark bangs, revealing Keith's flushed face. “If you like my clip, we should find something for you, you’re hairs getting long.”

Keith’s head whipped up, his confusion was clear in his wide, glassy eyes. Lance slid his hand to Keith’s cheek, and waited for him to understand, to see the silent acceptance that was offered. Keith sighed, it was only a slight shift of his shoulders, and a slow escape of breath through his nose. He understood, and he leaned into Lance’s palm.

“Yeah, maybe a headband or something?” Keith replied softly.

“I could knit you one,” Lance offered, as he began to lean away again, but this time he made sure to take Keith with him.

There was no resistance. Lance spread out on his back, and Keith settled onto his chest, Their arms naturally wrapped around each other. Lance pressed Keith close, and heard a sound of contentment. Every inch of Lance was filled with warmth, and he couldn’t feel bad or anxious right now if he tried.

Throughout their developing friendship, it became apparent that Keith was not going to allow more than a high five or a fist bump. The very few times Lance tried to hug him, it was deftly avoided. Lance always thought it was because Keith was maybe a little uncomfortable with Lance’s sexuality. Which had hurt.

Apparently he was wrong.

Shiro, was probably the only person Lance had seen Keith accept casually touches from, but ever since he got back from his second imprisonment, he had been distant. Even before that, it was only pats on the back and the occasional hug. Now Lance understood that Keith was touch starved, but didn’t have many people he trusted to fill that void. Lance was happy to do it.

Physical affection was one way Lance relieved his own anxiety. Hunk was normally the one who provided, when it was necessary, but lately Lance had been trying to give his friend some space, and sorely missed his the hugs. He wondered if Keith had wanted this for a while, but had been afraid to ask… He was emotional repression in human form, not that Lance could really talk.

Keith burrowed his face into Lance’s chest, and puffed out a warm breath. It traveled over Lance’s skin, and seeped under the surface, it mingled with the tingling excitement that buzzed through him. This was so much better than Hunk.

“Is this weird?” Keith’s muffled voice broke Lance from his thoughts.

“No,” Lance replied, and that was all they needed to say on the topic. It was a quiet acceptance of their new dynamic, unspoken, like much of their friendship.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Lance decided it was to quiet.

“Corran told me I was his favorite today,” he bragged playfully, and easily fell into their usual banter.

“Everyone knows that, Ace.” Keith’s still spoke into Lance’s shirt.

Lance shifted to look down at Keith's hair, “Really?”

Keith raised his head, and rested his chin on Lance’s sternum. “Yeah, you were the only one willing to listen to all his stories,  and I think he noticed you learned Altean. Like I said before, you naturally help people.”

Lance blushed, and cleared his throat.

Keith narrowed his eyes, and... was he examining Lance’s face?

“You have really nice skin. I knew that before, but up close it's more impressive.” Apparently he was.

Lance choked on his own breath. The warmth that settled under his skin began to gather, and drift lower… this new thing between them might be harder than Lance anticipated (pun intended). Why did he do these things to himself?

“So, you complimenting me... is a thing now?” Lance hoped Keith didn't notice how husky his voice had become.

Keith smirked, “Yup, I think it makes us square.”

Lance stifled groaned at the reference to their old inside joke, but he understood where Keith was coming from. He saw Lance offering affection, as a debt, to repay the debt, he would “help” Lance with his insecurities… by complimenting him. Lance knew there was no way to convince Keith that the affection was, happily, and freely given, not without spilling his crush all over the place.

“Dios, dame fuerza.” Lance mutter his mama’s favorite phrase.

Keith tipped his head, still resting on Lance’s chest, “What was that? Something about God?”

Lance held back a squeak, but his response still came out an octave higher, “Nothing.” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “You have a nickname for me, so I have decided you need one too.”

Keith’s curiosity about spanish dropped away, “I really don’t.”

“I think you do,” Lance stated confidently. “how about Azul?”

“Doesn’t that mean blue?” Keith raised a brow.

Lance smiled, it always made him happy when Keith got spanish right. “Yeah, and it's your favorite color.”

“Yeah, I guess, but with voltron it feels wrong to be called blue. Plus, in spanish it kinda sounds like a shitty evil villain's name.”

Lance laughed, “It really does. How about SwordyMcstabby?”

Keith snorted, “Fuck you. If you insist on a nickname, why not just Red?”

Lance waggled a finger in Keith's face, “no, no, your Lion is named Red. I can’t call you both the same name.”

Keith put his face back on Lance’s chest, “I really don’t need a nickname…” His voice was muffled again.

Lance patted Keith's head. “I’ll think of something, don’t worry,” he said with a mocking coo.

Keith groaned.

“Samurai?” Lance suggested.

Keith laughed, and it rumbled through Lance’s chest. “Hell no. Plus, I think that might be offensive.”  

“How? I thought you were Korean.” Lance replied with an air of innocence. Inside he squirmed, did he really say something offensive?

Keith takes an exasperated breath. “I think that makes it more offensive? What if I gave you a Mexican nickname, like-”

“Nope!” Lance interrupts. He grits his teeth when he suddenly understands, and he remembers the few times he called Keith Samurai in the past. Now those memories will probably haunt him forever. “I get it, no need to make this worse. No more asian themed nicknames.” He concedes.

Lance is comforted when Keith laughs again, he must not have taken much offence if he can find the humor in the mistake. But he still feels the inexplicable need to apologize.

“Sorry,” He muttered.

“It’s OK, sombrero boy.” Keith replies casually.

“Hey!” There's no fire in Lance’s outburst, but if there was, it would have be doused by Keith’s uproarious laughter. It was almost offensive how funny Keith found his own joke, which made Lance laugh. As they bickered and laughed  a new realization dawned on Lance. The trust Keith put in him, it was a serious responsibility. By opening up to Lance, Keith offered the power to hurt him, the same way he could hurt Lance. It was a sobering thought, Keith didn’t have to open up, he could have let Lance break down and then held it over him. But instead he reciprocated, and trusted Lance not to hurt him.

That night, after they parted, Lance made a blue knitted headband before falling asleep.

Ooo

Lance learned what a panic attack was at nine years old.

His first one hit like a microburst, almost no noticeable buildup before the storm.  

The familiar burn of his anxiety, grew more painful than he had ever experienced. He took a deep breath, and then another, and another. It didn’t help, never before had his own breathing been ineffective. Is this what drowning felt like?

He was confused, and scared, as he sank deep into the dark unknown. He didn't understand what was happening, how could he not control this? His own body? He was stupid, and useless. Coming apart for reasons unknown- because he didn’t understand!

Anger, frustration and disgust, crashed down in volumes beyond anything he had felt before. They covered him completely, and held him down under the pressure of their weight.

He didn’t fight it, he curled up on the cold bathroom floor. He cried openly.

He was a child, without the social pressure to feel ashamed of this, yet.

Lance didn't hear the footsteps, or any of the frantic words. He saw the small, blue tiles of the floor pull away, as he was lifted into strong, warm arms.

Maritza held him to her chest, she leaned against the wall, and hugged him.

“Lance!”

His sister's voice broke through the roaring storm.

“Itza!” Lance choked out.

Maritza rocked them slowly, and whispered to Lance until his breathing slowed, and his tears stopped. She picked her younger brother up, something Lance had insisted he was too big for at seven years old, and carried him to her room.

It was a hot summer night, the windows were open, and the sound of a wind chime drifted through the air.

Maritza placed Lance on her bed, and got on the floor in front of him.

“Lance, what happened?” She asked gently.

Lance looked down at his hands. He couldn’t lie to Maritza, she already knew how nervous and upset he got sometimes, but he also didn't have an answer.

“I don’t know.” It was the truth.

Maritza smiled patiently, “What were you doing before you got upset?”

Lance twisted his hands together, and looked away. “I was looking in the mirror.”

“And that upset you?” She asked.

Lance gave a small nod, and sniffled.

“Why, manito?” Maritza had an edge of distress in her voice.

“Because I’m ugly.” The reasoning was simple, blunt, and delivered in a way only a child could express.

Maritza pulled Lance into a hug, she was on her knees in front of the bed, just tall enough to rest her head on his shoulder. “No, Lance, you are beautiful.”

Lance clung to her shirt, tears threatening to come again. “Not, like you are,” he admitted.

Maritza pulled back, she was on the brink of tears, but she didn’t look at Lance with pity. He could tell that she didn’t agree with him, simply by her eyes, as they rested on his face. He knew she saw him in a way that he couldn’t see himself.

“If you want to be like me, then we should probably get started!” Maritza put on an air of joy, and wiped away her stray tears.

With quick feet she skipped across her room, and collected a litter of objects. Then she came back to dump them on the bed.

Lance looked down at the collection of tubes and jars, and then back up at his sister with confusion.

“We are going to do what I do, when I have a bad day.” Maritza announced. She began to open the various things she brought over, and mixed them together in a bowl. “We are going to do face masks, and while they dry, we are going to watch a movie! Oh, maybe we can even do our nails, and i can teach you to braid my hair!”  

This was the beginning of a tradition for him and Maritza. One that included beauty tips, manicures, movies, and hugs.  

Lance wouldn’t have another full panic attack, until he was fourteen.

ooo

Lance woke up before the fake sunrise, that was really just the dim lights brightening. He had been dreaming, he couldn’t remember what it was, but he felt unsettled. The stagnant anxiety that pooled in him, left by the mystery dream, drained away when he remembered the night before. The feeling of Keith close to him, practically breathing in sync with him. A new, more chaotic feeling rose up. Was he taking advantage of Keith? Would he be able to handle this without crossing a line? And if he did manage to handle it, would Lance come out the other side whole? He could already feel the strain of being so close to Keith, but not really having him.

Lance sighed, he knew this was probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t care. Keith was so relaxed last night, he needed this, and Lance getting a little of what he wanted wasn’t hurting anything. Right?

He could handle it.

Lance rolled over, and ignored the weight on his mind. He wasn’t getting back to sleep. He hefted himself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. With blurry eyes he opened the mirror to gather his morning supplies, and began his face ritual.

Looking at himself in the mirror this morning, was a little easier.

Ooo

The hallway was quiet. The usual morning ruckus was still hours away, and Lance was not used to approaching a silent kitchen. So when he entered the room, he was surprised to see another person there.

Allura was curled up in one of the chairs at the table. She was still wearing her new sweater and black leggings. Her hair was left in the braid Lance had done, but it was mussed, and uneven. She looked up from her steaming cup of… something, when Lance entered. He thought she looked like she just rolled out of bed moments ago, but the dark circles under her eyes gave her away.

Allura looked surprised to see anyone awake, but relaxed marginally when she recognized who it was.

“Good Morning, Lance.” Her voice was fond, a new development since their time yesterday.

Instead of answering with any number of polite responses, Lance blurted out his concerns.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He asked.

Allura blinked in surprise, and then smiled. It was tired and small. “Do I look that bad?”

Lance floundered, “Umm… well, sorta.” He gestured to her hair as he answered.

Allura touched her lopsided braid and understood his meaning.

Lance approached her slowly, “I could do another one?” He offered uncertainly. He was still worried about their new friendship, and didn’t want to overstep any bounds.

It was apparently a welcomed gesture. “If you wouldn't mind,”  Allura said and waved him closer.

Lance came around behind her chair, and started to undo his previous work. He ran his fingers through her hair a few times to get the tangles out, and watched her shoulders relax. He did a simple dutch braid from the base of her neck to the top of her head, then he pulled the rest of her hair into a nice bun and secured it.

“Much better.” Lance commented and moved to sit next to Allura.

He poured himself a cup of hot whatever-it-was from the pot in the middle of the table, and watched from the corner of his eye as Allura felt the back of her hair.

She smiled, “Thank you, Lance.”

The mood in the room became light and comfortable. Lance took a sip of his drink, and it wasn’t the worst thing he had tasted in space. His mood rose a little higher, and he felt a mischievous itch. So in the usual Lance fashion, he decided to go from hesitant, to full out teasing friendship.

“So, Princess. Have you spent any quality time with Shiro recently?” A sly smirk lifted Lance’s lips.

Allura lifted her nose, and looked away from Lance, “I have no idea what you mean.”

“It's just that yesterday, you had a lot to say about him. I thought that he might be the hyperdrive that brings you to light speed, if you know what I mean?” Lance’s tone was heavy with innuendo.

Allura looked at him and raised a brow, “I don’t know what you mean, what’s a hyperdrive?”

Lance leaned closer, and smirked a little wider, “you know, he’s your Oliver Wood, cuz he's a keeper.”

“Who is this, Oliver wood?” Allura looked even more confused.

Lance sighed, and leaned back, “you are attracted to him, right?” He was disappointed his innuendos went to waste, but he thoroughly enjoyed watching Allura turn red to the tips of her pointed ears.

“Thats! No… but you- that's ridiculous!” She sputtered.

“You do like him!” Lance cry triumphantly, and bounced on his seat.

“I do not!” Allura denied, but her blush moved down her neck, betraying her feelings.

“Yes you do!”

“Do not!”

“Don’t lie, it's not Princess like.” Lance smirked so hard he flashed his white teeth.

“Stop, or I will push you off that chair!” She threatened, but there was no malice in her words, only warning.

Lance ignored her warning, and pointed right at her face to say,  “You like him, admit-!”

He was cut off when Allura shoved him so hard, he flew clean off his seat, and hit the floor.

Lance sat up, and stared at Allura in shock, “I can’t believe you did that…” he admitted.

She just stared back for a moment, and then she started to laugh. “I did warn you,” She said between breaths.

Lance felt his heart warm, she was so much happier now, then when he walked in, and he laughed with her.

“Fair enough,” He agreed with a smile..

They both failed to gain control of themselves, and Lance had to wipe away tears while he was doubled over on the floor.

The door to the kitchen slid open, and Hunk walked in, only to stop and stare at the strange situation.

“What's so funny?” He asked.

Allura and Lance pulled themselves together long enough to look at Hunk, then at each other, before bursting out into giggles that they tried muffled in their hands.

“Ummm, OK.” Hunk shrugged, but smiled at Lance, and went across the room to get his goo breakfast.

The smile filled Lance with the same warmth he felt when Allura laughed, Hunk was happy to see him happy. He pulled himself together, and climbed back onto his chair. He used his elbow to nudge the still giggle princess. “But you do, right?” He whispered, more serious this time.

Allura stopped laughing. She looked him in the eyes, and Lance could tell she was analyzing his intentions.

She slowly nodded.

Lance could burst from his happiness. The Princess trusted him enough to give a real answer, and that meant a lot. Not that she was being subtle about it when they chatted yesterday. He sipped his drink, and basked in the warm glow of friendship. The best part was that Lance was ninety percent sure that Shiro like Allura back, he was just having a rough time, but Lance was sure things would work out. Lance’s eyes glazed over, as he let his mind drift into a daydream about his two leaders having an epic space romance.

Hunk came back to the table and sat across from the smiling pair. He looked at Allura’s new sweater, then at Lance, then back at Allura smiling face, then back at Lance’s dreamy face. He looked confused, but his expression began to shift into something horrified.

“Are you two…” He started to ask, but his eyes landed on Allura’s hair before he finished. Understanding fell over his features, and he diverted his question.

“But really, What was so funny?” He asked instead.

“Huh?” Lance was jared from his imagination.

“Oh, you know…” Allura failed to think of anything to say, and looked to Lance. Apparently she was a terrible liar.

Luckily Lace excelled at bullshit. “I was telling Allura about the Giant Rat planet, you know, when we got separated and-”

“We don't need to rehash that situation!” Hunk cut in with a high voice, and a red face.

“But it was so funny when you tried-”

Hunk slammed both his hands on the table, “NO! IT WAS NOTHING LIKE THE PRINCESS BRIDE!” He yelled.

Pidge walked into the kitchen, the sound of the door was drowned out by Hunk. “Are we talking about the Rat Planet? Because it was epic when Hunk-”

“Pidge knows?! Did you tell everyone?!” Hunk gestured at all of Pidge to punctuate the betrayal.

Lance shrugged, “yeah?”

Hunk slumped to the table with his hand over his heart in defeat.

Allura leaned close to Lance's ear, “Thanks,” she whispered in appreciation for the cover story.

Lance smiled, “That's what friends are for.”

Ooo

Soon, everyone in the castle was awake, they sat around the table with the familiar air of family. Only something was off, the usual order of their seats was altered, because Lance never left his spot next to Allura. He saw Shiro glance at his usual seat, occupied by Lance, and frown. It wasn’t intentional, but this small sign of possible jealousy made Lance smirk. The way Shiro narrowed his at Lance indicated that his team leader might have taken the smirk a different way, maybe as a competitive gesture.

Lance just smirked wider. Normally he would be fighting down a crashing wave of anxiety, and fear, over his behavior, he would still do it of course, but he would worry about overstepping boundaries. Today was different, Lance felt calm, and secure in his friendships, still anxious, but markedly less.

“Thats a nice sweater, Allura. I didn’t know Altea had knit.” Shiro commented. He sounded more upbeat than he looked.

Allura lit up, bright as a star. There was a depth to her happiness that you didn’t realize was missing, until you saw it. “Altea didn’t have knit. Lance made this for me, isn’t it lovely?”

“Not as lovely as you.” Lance let his teeth show, as he slid in the complement smoothly along with a single finger gun.

Allura softly giggle, and waved the compliment off without protest. Surprise swooped over the table, as many of them came to a similar conclusions.

Shiro made a indistinct sound, halfway between choking and agreeing, then looked down at his food. There was a lift to his shoulders that spoke to tension, and his breathing was so even pealed, that Lance assume he was focusing his efforts on staying calm.

Everyone ate in silence after that, ignoring the pink sweater in the room.

Pidge had opened their mouth to speak a few times, even got out a sound that was not recognizable, but never managed to say anything. Keith was looking between Allura and Lance, his face was neutral, except for the little crinkle between his eyes, and the slight frown on his lips. Small, insignificant details that only someone who spent a lot of time with Keith would notice, but they screamed to Lance, that Keith was unhappy. Which, in a sick and twisted way made Lance want to smile. Keith was possessive of the few bonds he formed, and Lance was glad to see evidence of their friendship.

Lance gripped the headband in his pocket, he would smooth things over with Keith tonight.

Hunk and Coran were the only ones at the table who weren’t tense. Coran was smiling, either unaware, or ignoring the current mood in the room.

But Hunk… was trying not to lose his shit.

Lance saw the shallow breaths, tight jaw muscles, and clenched eyes, clear signs of the strain of withheld laughter. He was hunched so far over the table in his effort to contain himself, that his face was almost in his goo. Everyone else was to engrossed in the idea that Lance, had somehow bagged Allura, that they didn’t even notice when Hunk leaned forward final inch, and gently placed his face in his breakfast.

Hunk reeled back in surprise, almost tipping his chair over, and Lance barked out a laugh. The sudden movement and sound startled everyone.

Coran took the opportunity to start the morning briefing. He handed Hunk a cloth to clean his face with, sharing a knowing smile, and then turned to address the table.

“Today is our final day of travel. We will arrive at Yeppeuda in the early morning hours. I want you all well rested for our descent. That is all!” Coran concluded with a flourish of his hand.

Keith immediately stood, and walked out of the kitchen when they were dismissed. Shiro followed close behind, only glancing back once.

Allura stood. “If we want to stay undercover successfully, I must finish preparing for our time on Yeppeuda.” She left, followed by Coran.

Lance was left with Pidge and Hunk. “Thats right, we are going to be pirates or something?” He asked, ignoring Pidge’s suspicious stare.

Hunk waved his hand dismissively, “Nah, pirates was shot down, along with space heros. We are going to ba nomads, or I guess space nomads?”

“Nomads?” Lance asked indignantly, “But pirates are awesome!”

“Pirates are bad, Lance.” Hunk said seriously.

“But, are they?” Lance countered with a raised brow.

“Yes.” Hunk threw his arms up.

Lance leaned back and crossed his arms, “I would like proof.”

Hunk waved his arms around wildly, “Every pirate ever, Lance. Thats your proof!”

Lance continued to rile his friend up, by purposely being obtuse, it was one of his favorite things, besides truly debating with Hunk. Pidge usually joined in, and as Hunk reached critical mass, Lance waited for them to strike the final blow. But nothing happened, and Hunk continued to rant without interruption, not even caring that Lance was no longer paying attention.

“WE would have to KILL people, Lance! Kill them! In order to convince people we were real pirates!” Hunk slammed his hands down on the tabled, breathing heavy from his own zealous argument.

Pidge had their head propped up on their hand, and was studying Lance like one of their programs, with eyes narrowed, and glasses pushed up. Lance was becoming uncomfortable, and shrank back into his seat.

“So, you and Allura?” They finally asked.

Lance struggled with how to explain the new friendship he shared with the Princess, and shrugged.

Pidge continued without pausing for a real answer, winding themself up as they went. “That hair clip is hers, isn’t it? And you made her a sweater. You didn’t use your worst pick up lines this morning, and the one time you did hit on her, she giggle, GIGGLED! Did I fall into an alternate universe where Allura suddenly found this-”  They gestured at Lance in general, “womanizing goofball attractive?!”

“Hey!” Lance complained, offended. “I do not womanize, I woo. You little gremlin! You’re just jealous of my game!”

Pidge snorted, “I’m about as jealous of your game, as you are of my huge cock.”

Lance choked, but Hunk burst out laughing, seemingly unsurprised by Pidges humor. For just a moment, Lance disassociated from the situation, as his brain recognized that Keith and Pidge would probably get along really well.

Hunk’s calm voice restitched Lance to his reality. “They’re not together, Pidge.” He said smoothly, before any real insults could be thrown. His rounded personality rolled over Pidge's sharp corners, and they calmed down.

“All evidence says otherwise,” they argued.

“Yeah, but her hair was braided,” Hunk countered with grace.

“What does th-”

Hunk raised a finger as he interrupted, “and we all know that if Lance was _with_ someone, he would be all over them, but he kept a respectable distance from the Princess all morning.”

Pidge crossed their arms, “That's true, but I still don’t understand what-”

Lance clapped Pidge on the shoulder, “Allura and I have found some common ground, that's all.” He assured.

Pidge sighed, and still didn't look completely convinced. “That's great and all, but you are going to get yourself killed. Did you see Shiro’s face?”

“Pidge has a point. I’m happy and all, that you and Allura are getting along, but Shiro can kill you with just his thumbs,” Hunk agreed.

Lance leaned back, feeling more self satisfied than he had in awhile.  “oh, I saw his face. Maybe now he will make a move.”

Understanding dawned on Pidge, and a shit eating grin spread over their face. “This is so good, I’m in.”

Hunk hesitated, and worry visibly took hold. “I don’t know, this seems like it might be a bad idea…”

“No, this is brilliant.” Pidge shot Hunk down.

Lance preened, “I know I am.”

“Shut up, Lance.” Pidge snapped, and then grew serious as they explained, “Before Shiro was captured, we all saw him pining after the Princess. But now he's distant, from everyone, including her. This might be the push he needs.” Pidge softened, and turned to Lance, “I think this might help, so thanks…”

Lance smiled, and nodded. He let the slight sting of Pidge snapping at him melt away. Out of all of them, Pidge was the most distressed by Shiro’s distant behavior, even more so than Keith. They lost a third family member, and when he returned, he wasn’t exactly whole. Lance was sure that Pidge realized the same could be true for their brother and father. Shiro could be helped, there were periods of time when he was almost back to his old self. There was hope, and Pidge needed that hope.

“Plus, if Shiro does kill Lance, it could be pretty entertaining,” Pidge concluded, and just like that, all Lances good feelings for them were gone.

“Hey!” Lance barely got to start complaining when Pidge cut him off.

“Anyway, I got to go get ready to integrate the new tech tomorrow.” Pidge stood abruptly, uncomfortable with their emotions as ever. “I’ll see you guys later.” They waved and left swiftly.

Hunk stood as well, “I should probably go help them,” He admitted. But Instead of leaving he came around the table, and pulled Lance into a hug that lifted him off his chair. “I’m glad you’re reached out, I’m proud of you.”

Happiness welled up in Lance, but was met with guilt that slid down his spine. Hunk was relieved that Lance allowed himself to be supported by another team member, but it wasn’t the person he thought. Even if it was by omission, Lance still felt bad about lying to Hunk about Keith.

“So the hair gave me away?” Lance asked, as Hunk finally put him back down in his seat.

Hunk took the seat that was previously Allura’s, and let his heavy arm fall across Lance’s shoulders. “Yeah, dude. The grooming thing was what you did with your sister. I know you wouldn’t use it to get with someone.”

Hurt stabbed Lance, as it always did when he was reminded of his sister, but he pushed it aside.

“I would do the ‘grooming thing’ with someone I’m dating.” Lance argued.

Hunk pulled Lance closer and answered with certainty. “Yeah, but you would never use it to get with them. It means to much to you.”

Lance sighed and looked down at it lap.

“Yeah…” He agreed, because Hunk was right. He only ever did the ‘grooming thing’, as Hunk called it, with anyone who was going to be a permanent part of his life. He had never done it with anyone he had romantic feelings for, because he was afraid that if things went wrong, the tradition would be tainted by bad blood, or a broken heart.  

Hunk shook Lance lightly, “Stop thinking, and let's go hang out. It's been a while.”

“I thought you had to help Pidge?” Lance asked. A thin string of hope threaded through him, he missed having quality time with Hunk.

“I will catch up with them later, it’s best friend time.” Hunk assured.

Lance’s mood bounced back, and he smiled. “How about a game of storage unit jenga?”

Hunk smirked, “you’re on!”

If Allura, or really anyone, found out that Hunk and Lance used the big rectangular storage units, to play jenga in the common hanger, using their Lions. They would be in big trouble. Luckily Pidge and the Lions were the only ones who knew. Pidge didn’t care, and Lance suspected the Lions found it entertaining.

Ooo

Thoughts of lunch were edging into Lance’s mind by the time Hunk announced he really did have to go help Pidge. After their epic game of giant lion jenga, they ended up just talking like the old days. The last strings of a nostalgic happiness, echoed in Lance’s bedroom. With a faint smile, he pulled himself up from his bed, and decided to go find Keith. Lance had meant to give him the headband sooner, but got distracted. He also needed to figure out why Keith looked so irritated when he left the table.

At the beginning of the search for Keith, Lance was humming a bright tune, but as the search went on his voice faded away. After almost an hour of walking he was starting to run out of places to look. All of their usual spots were empty. There was only one more place Lance could think of, it was a small room deep in the castle, that they had chanced upon a while back. It was like a rec room almost. If he wasn’t there, then he was probably in his room. If that was the case then Lance would give up, they never went to each other rooms, it was again, an unspoken rule.

Lance felt heavy, as he wandered into the winding maze of the mostly unused part of the castleship. He had a feeling that whatever upset Keith was more serious than Lance first thought. If he wasn’t waiting in the rec room, then he was in his bedroom, which meant he was avoiding Lance.

Was he upset about last night? Dread, cold and hard, pushed Lance in the sternum. Just the thought of Keith regretting opening up was painful. Lance picked up his pace, and was almost jogging when he heard it.

Music.

Not just any music, earth music.

All of the Paladins, except Shiro, had their phones with them when they were launched into space by Blue. Pidge figured out how to adapt their earth tech to charge off of the ship's Balmeran crystal quintessence, but it didn’t take long for everyone to tire of their small collection of saved music.

The music that was floating down the hall, and pulling Lance out of his fitful thoughts, was new, relatively speaking. It wasn’t any of the songs Lance had heard a millions times since getting trapped in space. It was… Britney Spears...

_You want a hot body? You want a Bugatti?_

Lance followed the sound of motivational Britney, it led him away from his original path, but that was OK. Honestly Lance was glad to have the distraction, he was nervous about confronting Keith, or the possible lack of confrontation. Avoidance was something he was a pro at.

_You want a Maserati? You better work bitch._

The music was coming from a hallway Lance had never been down. He slowed to a creeping walk as he approached the open door at the other end of the hall. The music got louder as he got closer.

_You want a Lamborghini? Sippin' martinis?_

_Look hot in a bikini? You better work bitch._

Lance stopped to the left of the door, and slowly peeked around inside, so only the top of his head passed the door frame. What he saw inside made his eyebrows touch his hairline.

Pidge sat at a workstation, in a _secret lab,_ listening to **_Britney Spears._ **

Lance move so he was completely in the doorway, Pidge was sitting with their back to the entrance, and hadn’t heard him over the music. Lance took the opportunity to glance around, and maybe… touch some of the cooler looking things.

The room was floor to ceiling covered in wires, gadgets, and stacks of extra parts. The “work table” Pidge was sitting at, was more like a cubby space in the massive chaos of the room, with a clear spot to work at. In front of the clear space was a wall of monitors that curved around in front of Pidge. Each screen showed something different, some were just scrolling symbols that meant nothing to Lance, others he recognized as diagnostics on their Lions, but a few showed parts of the castle like security cameras. The last type sent a pang of fear through Lance. What of Pidge had been watching him and Keith, what of they saw last night?

Lance tried to slowly back out of the room, but in the most cliche way possible, he tripped on a discarded engine part.

The music stopped. Pidge whipped around, and pulled off their magnifying tech goggles. They looked panicked for a moment, but relaxed then they saw Lance on the ground.

“What are you doing here?” They asked. They didn’t sound very upset that their lab was uncovered.

Lance completely ignored their question, and instead blurted out his own. “Are you watching us on camera?” He pointed to the set of screens showing security feed.

Pidge glanced over their shoulders at the monitors, and then back at Lance. “I only watch the points of entry into the castle, and the lion hangers.” They answered matter of factly.

“Oh…” Lance got to his feet, and brush off his jacket to cover his relief. He made a mental note of where the cameras were recording.  “Why?” He asked.

A level stare was set on Pidge’s face, “Well, I figured it might be a good idea. Cuz, you know, a Blade of  Marmora has literally waltzed into the castle ship undetected before…” The level of sarcasm was real.

Lance laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his head, “Yeah, of course. Makes sense.”

Pidge’s eyes narrowed, and their mouth was set in a thin line. “Why? Do you have something to hide?”

Lance laughed again, unconvincingly, “Nope.”

Pidge’s eyes became only slits as they bored into Lance, and he scrambled for a way to change the subject. “So, this is where you and Hunk disappear to? Does anyone else know about this place?”

Pidge sighed, “Just you, now… unfortunately. What are you doing in this part of the castle anyway?”

“Nothing!” Lance answered to fast, “Just wandering.” He tried to cover, and almost winced at how awkward it sounded. Panic began to drip down the back of Lance’s neck.

Silence stretched, as Pidge analyzed Lance from head to toe. They were too smart, They knew Lance was trying to hide something. He couldn’t bail or it would get worse. He needed to change the subject.

“So, Britney Spears?” Lance said lamely.

Pidge raised a brow, “Yeah?” The word was laced with challenge.

“Yeah... I didn’t take you as the Britney type, doesn’t seem to suit you...” Lance knew the words were a mistake when Pidge’s lips immediately pulled in irritation.

“The. Type?” They replied slowly, the challenge from before was louder.

Lance scrambled, “Umm, you know.” He gestured at all of Pidge.

They crossed their arms, and leaned back, “No, Lance. I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me.”

Oh, no. What did he get himself into? Lance knew that what he said was stereotyping, it was wrong and judgemental. But it was reflex. He did to Pidge what other people did to him all his life. He wasn’t the type to braid hair, so he only did it for his sisters. He wasn’t the type to do facials, so he only did it in private. He wasn’t the type to grow his hair out, so he cut it. The list went on and on. No one outside his own family, saw through him, and called him out, when he wasn’t being honest with himself. Until now.

“Ummmm…” Lance really didn’t know what to say.

Pidge leaned forward, “Don’t give me that ‘Type’ crap.”

Lance took a step back, the force of Pidge’s irritation was solid.

They continued without giving Lance a chance to respond. “You of all people should understand.” Pidge tapped the top of their head, and Lance knew they were reminding him of his hair clip. “Placing expectations on someone based on society's values, isn’t OK. It's all bullshit. This is why I kept some of my music to myself.”

“Sorry,” Lance cut in before Pidge could continue. “I didn’t mean it, I just…” He trailed off. He could have said so many things. He was just scared, ashamed, trapped in the social constructs of a society light years away. He looked down at his feet.

Lance heard a long and slow sigh.

“Lance.”

He looked up at the sound of his name, Pidge had a strange smile on their face. “Relax, I get it. It’s hard to let go, but fuck, man... we’re in space, there are aliens. No one it suited for anything, everyone can do what they want, and we’re all probably going to die anyway.”

The laugh that escaped Lance was so sudden, it surprised him. He felt all the tension drain from his body, because Pidge understood, and they expressed it in such a Pidge way. No touchy feelings required.

Lance thought back to the picture of them in a dress, looking very different from right now. That was Pidge, and this version in front of him, was Pidge as well, because Pidge was whatever they wanted to be. There didn’t need to be a long, and complicated conversation for them to understand each other. Pidge figured Lance out the day he walked into training with Allura’s hair clip, and they encouraged him.

“That's what I thought when I started growing my hair out, I’m in space, so fuck it,” Lance admitted.

Pidge hummed in agreement, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Lance watched as Pidge seemed to think on something. He felt fuzzy, in a good way, it floated just above his skin, and kept him warm.

When Pidge spoke again,  “When we go back to earth… Let's stay the same.” It was a request, but it was also permission, for him to be himself, and also an offer of acceptance from Pidge.

Lance nodded, without hesitation. He couldn’t imagine going backwards, and he appreciated their gesture more than he could express.

“Yeah,” He agreed.

“Now, get out of my lair, you dork.” Like a switch, it was back to snark and sarcasm..

“Your lair?” Lance sassed, and crossed his arms.

Pidge waved their arms around, “What else would you call this?”

Lance shrugged, “Point taken.” Suddenly a thought dawned on him. “Wheres Hunk? He said he was coming to help you a while ago.”

“He is helping me, he’s in one of the engine rooms, and I really do have to finish this work before we get to the new planet.” Pidge put their goggles back on with a smile that wasn’t there when they first turned around.

“I want a copy of all the music you’ve been hiding.” Lance insisted.

Pidge turned back to their work table, and waved over their shoulder without looking back.

“See ya, Pidgey.” He called out as he left.

Ooo

Lance was back to his original situation, only now he felt lighter. The smile on Pidges face, mirrored his own feelings about their weird conversation. He wasn’t sure what exactly they concluded, but he felt accepted, and that's all that mattered. Now with renewed confidence, Lance was prepared to face Keith, or the possibility that Keith was avoiding him.

A few hallways away from Pidge’s lair, was the hidden rec room. Lance stood at the end of the hallway, and stared at the open door.  A fiery hum in the back of his mind assured him that Keith was in there, not in his room out of Lance’s reach. The fear of rejection that lingered in Lance, stirred, and met the apprehension the thrummed through him.

Lance took a deep breath, and walked the length of the hall. He hesitated for a moment before entering the room.

Keith was sitting on one of the many couches in the room, his back to the door. He stood, unsurprised, when he heard Lance enter, and slowly turned. Keith’s hard edges, that had long ago softened for Lance, had reemerged. He shifted back and forth on his feet, broadcasting his uncertainty.

Lance was struck by how similar this was to the first night on the observation deck. When Keith had walked in, and interrupted him and Hunk. He had looked so out of place, just like he did now.

This wasn’t right, they had become so close. Pain rolled through Lance, it washed over his fear, and his own insecurities. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the headband. Keith didn’t back away when Lance approached, but he also didn’t meet him halfway.

Before last night, Lance would never touch Keith casually, but now, he took a chance.

“Here, Rojo.” He reached out and pulled the headband over, and down around Keith’s neck. Then he pulled the front back up to fit around Keith's head, pulling his hair back. He let out a breath when he was done, he had half expected Keith to pull away from his touch.

“Are you and Allura together?”

The blunt question backhanded Lance. Keith never kept his concerns or problems to himself when it came to Lance, it's probably the reason their friendship worked so well. Lance never had to wonder where he stood, or if he had done something wrong, because Keith always just told him.

How could Lance be so dumb? Of course Keith was upset about that, he was close to Shiro and was probably mad on his behalf. Then he want to train with Shiro, who probably bitched to Keith...

His body was released from the binds of his own worries, and he let his shoulders fall.

“No! No, no.” The word flew from Lance’s mouth, and the relief on Keith's face was instant. The rest of his explanation tumbled out in a rambling rant. “We are just friends. We sorta found some common ground, and she asked me to make her something, and then at breakfast I realized what it looked like, and I saw Shiro look jealous, and I thought, if he thought, that me and Allura were together, then maybe he would-”

Lance almost choked on his words when Keith suddenly hugged him, face pressed into Lance’s neck. The heat that filled Lance went to the brim, and when Keith said something, muffled, and quiet against his skin, he almost died.

“What?” He managed to squeak out.

Keith pulled away, and put his hands on Lance’s shoulders to give him a good shake. “I said, you are going to get yourself killed.

Lance blinked, “Why does everyone keep telling me that?”

Keith signed, and walked over to the couch. He looked back at Lance who was still rooted on the spot.

“Coming?” He asked.

Affection blanketed Lance’s heart, and his chest expanded.  “Para siempre,” He responded, quietly.

Lance ignored Keith's confused look, and smiled. He took a lounging seat on the couch, and waited for his bewildered friend to sit next to him. Then, all at once, Keith climbed onto Lance’s lap, and he curled up with his head under Lance’s chin.

“You are too fucking nice, you know that?” Keith mumbled.

Lance almost didn't want to let himself believe that this was real, but it was. He brought his arms up around Keith, and felt him relax into the touch. This strange arrangement between them -cuddles and complements- was the new normal, and Lance had decided he could handle it, he hoped.

“Am I?” Lance asked in return.

Keith chuckled, “Yeah, only someone as stupidly selfless as you, would try to pull the shit you're doing to Shiro.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Lance huffed.

Keith adjusted his position so that his back was to Lance’s chest, and he was sitting between Lance’s legs. “You called me something earlier, Rojo? What does that mean?” He asked.

“Its spanish for red, seemed fitting.” Lance said apprehensively, and looked down. He noticed Keith’s fidgeting hands, a sign that he was also nervous, but he didn’t reject the nickname.

“Let me try on your gloves.” Lance blurted out impulsively.

“What? No.” Keith tucked his hands under his arms for protection.

“Aww, come on, Rojo!” Lance reveled in the nickname rolling off his tongue, and dug his fingers into Keith's sides trying to pull his hands out. Keith squirmed and choked on a sound that was suspiciously like a laugh.

“Stop!” Keith yelled, his voice higher than Lance had ever heard it.

Lance abandoned his quest for the gloves, and instead starting to tickle Keith.

“You're ticklish!”

“No!” Keith denied and twisted away. He fell off the couch dragging Lance with him.

They hit the floor, and everything went dark, pitch black. Silence enveloped them, only their breathing could be heard. Lance slowly sat up, he could hear Keith do the same.

“Whats going on?” Keith whispered.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen dark this… well, dark.” Lance strained his eyes trying to see something, anything. This was truly what space was, this isolation. Lance went cold, he could feel the air leaving him, he was going to suffocate, in this oppressive blackness.

A warm hand took his, and Lance snapped out of his panic.  

A soft click, and there was light, a small beam illuminated Keith's face. “My phone still works.”

Duh, Lance forgot about his phone. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. His flashlight was working as well.

“Now what?” Keith asked, as he tried to look around with his light, but it was to weak to cut very far into the room.

Lance stood up and offered Keith his hand, “Now we go to Pidge, their lair is nearby.”

Keith took his hand, and stood. “Pidge has a lair?”

Ooo

  
  
  
****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3- Dead Space 
> 
> Coming soon.


	3. Dead Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team needs to survive in the vacuum of space! Tension builds, secrets are revealed, and some new mysteries are formed! 
> 
> Supportive Allura, I fucking love it.
> 
> Shiro is kinda shat on this chapter, but not for the reasons you think! OH another secret!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting this before season 3, so I can spend the time waiting for the hype to cool down writing part 4... which is long.
> 
> I'm not super happy with some parts of this chapter, or all the writing, but I didn't want to lease you guys hanging. It also still needs some editing, probably.

 

**Part 3- Dead Space**

  
  


The cone of light from Lance’s phone fell off abruptly, and left an endless expanse of darkness beyond. The walls, floors, and ceiling, were indistinguishable from the shadows, but still echoed his and Keith's footfalls, as they carefully walked down the hallway. Their steps were the only sound. The constant hum of the ship's systems was absent, and it sent a chill down Lance’s back. He tried to move quietly, the creepy atmosphere was making him uneasy. Lance didn’t exactly believe in ghosts, but he used to doubt the existence of aliens… He wasn’t willing to take a chance. 

 

His eyes strained to see. There was no light, not even from under a door, or dim glow from an electronic, only his phone, pathetically fighting against the dark. For the first time in a long time, or maybe since getting in Blue, Lance felt the vacuum of space pressing on his mind. 9

 

Keith held Lance’s arm, his own phone was pointed at the floor so they could see their feet. “I thought the desert was dark, but this…” He muttered.

 

“Yeah,” Lance agreed. He tried to focus on anything but Keith’s hand on his arm. Apparently, once Keith decided to grace you with his physical affections, it's all or nothing, like everything else he did.

 

They turned a corner, and stopped when the darkness was cut by the light pouring from Pidge’s lab. Lance took a full breath, only now aware that he had been breathing shallow. 

 

“Is that it?” Keith whispered. Barely a breath, but loud in the oppressive silence.

 

“Yeah,” Lance replied quietly. He began to move forward, his leg jerked, and the rubber of his sneaker squeaked on the smooth floor. The sound echoed through motionless castle ship, still as death.

 

“SHIT! FUCK! SHIT SHIT SHIT!” Pidge’s voice cracked through the air, and like a whip, it snapped against Lance’s heart. He would later deny the high screech he may or maynot have unleashed. Keith jumped away from Lance, and Lance would have been hurt by the action if he hadn't done the same. They didn't look at each other, and sprinted towards the light.

 

The room was dimly illuminated by monitors and gadgets, but less than half as many, compared to what Lance had seen earlier. Pidge was perched in the middle of their tech nest frantically typing, and pulling down periscope like headsets to look though. Each line they typed, or view they peered into, only made them more panicked.

 

“Oh NO. NONONONO, SHIT TITS!” Pidge wailed.

 

For every moment that Pidge scrambled around, Lance felt a tide panic rising, but it was tempered down by the onset of adrenaline. The tips of his fingers tingled, and he became ultra aware of his surroundings, while at the same time distant from it. Lance’s crisis mode kicked into full gear. 

 

“Pidge, whats going on?” Lance asked. He didn’t yell, but his tone expressed the underlying ‘how fucked are we?’

 

Keith jumped next to him, startled. He had been rooted to the spot, watching Pidge’s hysteria like a slow train wreck.

 

“How is this even POSSIBLE!?” Pidge fumed, ignoring Lance. At this point they weren’t type anything coherent, only slamming their hands on the keyboard in frustration, the edge of tears in their voice.

 

“How is what possible?!”  Keith barked, but his words didn’t even make a dent in Pidge’s awareness. 

 

Pidge let their head fall onto their work table with a thump. “We are SO screwed!” They lamented, and lifted their head to dropped it on the table again, “Screwed!” 

 

“SCREWED!” They banged their head harder to match their volume. “SCREWED!” Bang! They punctuated with their forehead again.

 

Pidge was starting to scare Lance, he had never seen them so panicked before. He ripped away the last shreds of his posturing cover, and pushed aside his self deprecation, to allowed himself to take control of the situation. His team needed him.

 

“ **PIDGE!** ”

 

Lance’s voice was commanding. It was the tone he used to get his younger siblings to stop in their tracks, and it was the same one his mother used on all her children. Pidge froze mid head bang, and slowly looked over their shoulder with wide eyes.

 

Lance approached, grabbed Pidge by the shoulders, and turned them around. His thoughts were cool and collected, “You need to focus,” he brought his face level with theirs, “tell me whats going on.” 

 

Pidge took a long calming breath, but their voice still shook when they spoke. “All the quintessence in the Castle is gone.”

 

Cold, and constricting dread leaked through Lance’s chest, but he viciously clamped down on it. He had to be in control, Pidge was barely keeping it together. This was worse than when they were stranded on that garbage heap, at least back then they had their lion for power. And Keith -Lance glanced at him- looked lost without something to punch or stab, this was out of the red paladin's wheelhouse. But Lance could adjust, he could flow around a situation like water, and make it his own, for the sake of the others. As it stood, he was the only one not losing his shit.  

 

“This is bad,” he muttered. 

 

Pidge needed direction, that's all they ever needed to keep it together. Lance would give them direction. He let go of their shoulders, and backed up a step to collect his thoughts.

 

The glow of the few remaining screens caught Lance’s eye. “Whats powering these?” He gestured around with wide sweeping motions.

 

“Hunk, and me have been experimenting with conversion generators, to turn quintessence into electricity. Everything still running, is on the back up batteries we made.” Pidge pointed to a wall of machines, supposedly the generators and batteries.

 

Lance looked down at his phone with dawning realization. He quickly turned off the flashlight. “Turn it all off, Pidge!” He demanded.

 

Pidge hesitated for a tick, then slapped their own face, “Shit, you’re right!” They rushed to a large failsafe switch, and pulled it. Everything powered down. Pidge looked at Lance through the dim light of Keith’s phone, “good thinking, we need to conserve power.”

 

Keith walked up to Lance’s right, bringing the only source of light closer, “Now what?” He asked, and looked directly at Lance. Pidge also looked to him, no longer panicked, but a little lost with such limited power.

 

What goes around, comes around. All those years pretending he wanted to be the center of attention, and now he was. Two of the most talented people he knew were -surprisingly- looking to him, to help lead them in a life or death situation. He should’ve listened to his mother, ‘don’t stir the pot, keep your head down,’ she always said. 

 

Lance held firm under the pressure, adrenaline still pumping through him. His chest felt full, and his heart was beating too fast, but his skin tingled with anticipation. “Now, we have to get to the others,” he declared, with as much certainty as he could muster.

 

“There will be a hand full of closed, and unpowered doors between us, and the control room.” Pidge was back on track, they put their hand out to Keith expectantly, and he slowly handed his phone over. They snatched it, and started to run around the room collecting equipment, leaving Lance and Keith in relative darkness. “I will need to get a few things together so we can open the doors,” They explained. 

 

What followed was a full twenty minutes of Pidge running back and forth, only stopping to add a new part to their… power thingy.

 

The first fifteen minutes were spent in silence, and then a soft sigh drew Lance’s attention. It was a slow, heavy breath through the nose, a sign that Keith was thinking about something difficult. Lance watched him fiddle with the headband in his hair, a thoughtful look on his face. Then Keith spoke over the sound of Pidge collecting their things, “We will also need to make a list.” 

 

“A list of? Lance asked, as he observed Keith through the swaying light of Pidge scampering around.

 

Keith’s hand dropped from his hair, “A list of what will kill us,” he elaborated, bluntly.

 

Lance made a soft, “Oh...”  as the seriousness of the situation solidified. “Yeah, we should probably prioritize what will do us in the fastest, so we can find a solution,” he agreed, surprising himself with how easily he fell back on logic during this emergency.

 

“The cold,” Keith replied, always the realist. He seemed to have collected himself, survival was one of his strong suits, and he fell into his comfort zone.

 

Pidge popped up between them, a pack of gadgets on their back, and goggles pulled up on their head. “Keiths right, the cold is priority one after we get to the others. Without quintessence we can’t heat the ship.”

 

They walk into the hall together, guided by Keith’s phone flashlight.

 

“What about air?” Lance asked, one brow lifted. Breathing was important last time he checked.

 

Pidge shrugged, “Airs not an immediate problem, as long as I can open doors. This ship is huge, and there are only seven of us,” they pointed out.

 

Lance nodded, grasping the determination he felt, and holding it tight. “OK, so we open doors, get to the others, and figure out how to not freeze to death, in that order.”

 

Pidge jumped to the head of their group to lead the way, their focus sharp, now that there was a plan. “Sounds good...” they agreed in a tone that left an unspoken ‘but’ hanging in the air, and it didn’t take long for Pidge to voice their concerns.

 

“But… Gravity will become an issue soon.” They shrugged as if it was obvious.

 

Gravity? Lance lifted his feet extra high for a few steps as they made their way down the hall. “It seems fine to me?” He said, unsure.

 

“For now.” Pidge looked over their shoulder, unwilling to slow down while they explained. “Many parts of the Castle are capable of becoming zero gravity environments, there is a network that goes through the walls of the ship that allows quintessence to disrupt the artificial gravity of a room. But powering down the gravity generator itself is a separate issue altogether.”

 

Lance thought back to the day the Castle tried to kill them, that explained why opening the door fixed the gravity situation for Hunk and Pidge back then. Now that he thought about it, not having power meant there shouldn’t be any gravity, right?

 

“So, how is there still gravity right now? Shouldn’t we be all floaty and stuff?” Lance made a wavy gesture with his hands.

 

Keith snorted, but didn’t interrupt. Lance gave him a shifty look.

 

Pidge sighed, as if they were very put upon. “It’s complicated to say the least, but I will try and simplify it the best I can. The gravity generator is a bunch of moving parts, like a gyroscope, that are perfectly fit together, smooth as can be, and floating in a zero gravity vacuum chamber. The parts are given motion by quintessence, but after they start moving, it takes very little to keep them going. Since there’s no air, or gravity, and almost no friction, it takes a long time for the generator to stop, unless it's forced. It's actually pretty cool, it is slowed down by the gravity and atmosphere of planets we land on, so it's a smooth transition and almost…”

 

Lance tuned out Pidge and imagined spinning a perfectly balanced wheel of a flipped bike, and how long it would take for it to stop if he didn’t touch it. 

 

Keith spoke up for the first time in a while, his voice startled Lance. “So, the generator just takes a long time to wind down, and we are slowly going to become weightless?” 

 

Pidge turned their head to look forward again, “Essentially, yeah.”

 

“Why couldn’t you just say that?” Lance grumbled.

 

Pidge shrugged, the line of their back conveyed that their casual attitude was forced.  “Because you would ask a million questions, I was just being pragmatic.” 

 

Lance opened his mouth to disagree, but never got the words out. Pidge didn't even need to turn around to derail his argument. “And don’t say you wouldn’t, because we both know that's a lie.” Pidge’s tone wasn’t harsh, they sounded almost appreciative of his curious nature. They continued to banter, trying to keep the atmosphere light, even under the crushing pressure of their predicament. 

 

_ “How do you know so much about how the gravity works?” _

 

_ “What do you think I do with my spare time, in a ship full of advanced tech?” _

 

_ “Build lairs?” _

 

_ “ _ _ touché _ _.” _

 

Keith lingered just behind Lance, barely on the edge of his peripheral, shining his phone light on the two in front of him. Lance was tempted to look back at him and say something, but he honestly didn’t know what he would say. His mind still lingered on their comfortable position right before the blackout, but he couldn’t bring that up in front of Pidge. He shouldn’t torture himself by thinking about it, there was no chance Keith saw him like that.

 

Warm fingers lightly looped around Lance’s pinky and ring finger. He still didn’t look back, but he curled his two fingers around Keith’s. The small contact allowed Keith’s warm presence to smooth down Lance’s rough edges. A comforting hum picked up in the back of his mind, similar to Blue, but distinctly Rojo.

 

Pidge was looking forward, keeping their eye on the prize, and never looked back to catch the small comfort.

 

Ooo

 

They reached the first closed door.

 

Pidge immediately went for the control panel with a slew of tools, and in a matter of moments they had the panel open, exposing the Altean tech. Silence reigned, while Pidge worked, sitting on the floor hunched over a bunch of wires and darkened crystals. The only the sound came from their tools, it echoed through the dim light.

 

Worry stalked through the darkness, and prepared to pounce on Lance with every _ clank _ of a metal, or  _ tink  _ of crystal. His skin felt hot and tight, like there were needles pressed lightly against him, threatening to puncture. His anxiety built, and he braced himself for the impact, but it was stalled when a hand ran up his back. The touch didn’t push the needles deep, and Lance didn’t recoil. Instead, he felt clam.

 

Lance glanced at Keith, but he was focused on Pidge’s work, almost as if he was unaware of the contact he offered, like an unconscious reaction.

 

“FUCK ALTEAN TECH!” Pidge roared, and slammed their tools on the floor.  Keith pulled back from Lance, and his hand fell away just as Pidge turned around.

 

They huffed, and pushed up their glasses, trying to calm down. “I can get the door powered with my batteries, but…” 

 

Lance and Keith both leaned closer.

 

“But?” Lance asked. 

 

Pidge let their head fall back against the wall, “But, I think the power outage set off a lock down. It didn’t have time to finish, so open doors remained open, but closed doors locked before losing power.” 

 

“Well, fuck…” Keith cursed. “So, do we just wait here for Coran or Allura to find us?” He slid to the floor in front of Pidge. 

 

Lance joined them on the floor, “They can’t get to us,” he sighed, strangely calm in the face of certain doom, or maybe it was the impending doom that calmed him, in a ‘nothing to lose’ sotra way.  

 

Keith shot Lance an irritated scowl, “They might figure out an alternative power source like Pidge did,” he snapped back. Lance glared at him, and opened his mouth to retort.

 

“UUUUHHHH,” Pidge let out a frustrated sound, and threw a wrench like tool across the hall. Keith and Lance jumped in surprise, but whatever bickering match they were about to partake in, was derailed. Lance knew better than to start a fight with Pidge so on edge, you don’t hit a beehive with a baseball bat. 

 

Pidge ran their hands through their hair, pulling at the ends. “They won't find an alternative source unless they somehow learn about,  _ and  _ have access to electricity. Without Hunk, who is probably trapped in the engine room, they won't have a chance.” They growled, successfully killing all hope. They hid their face in their knees, and whined, sounding close to tears, “I kept putting off programing an override for the Altean DNA locks, FUCK ME!” 

 

A beat of silence passed, while they all realized they were likely going to die. At least, that's what happened for Lance, and judging by the other’s faces, they were on the same page.  Death was far enough away that they could disassociate, and not close enough to panic… yet. A blanket of denial muffled Lance's fear, and he idly wondered if he would regret not confessing to Keith. They sat in the dim light of Keiths phone, and the still powered door, listening to the quiet buzz of electricity. The sound was reminiscent of earth, Lance had never noticed that quintessence didn’t make noise. 

 

Keith broke the silence, “This... is a fucked up way to die,” he surmised. 

 

“Considering our life… you know, in space, fighting aliens, wouldn’t any way we die be fucked up?” Pidge retorted, without lifting their head. 

 

Keith chuckled, without humor. “I meant in the context of our life, this is particularly fucked up. We should be killed in battle, or by space monsters, not trapped in a hallway of our own ship.”

 

“Point taken,” Pidge conceded, they looked up with red rimmed eyes, and rested their chin on their knees. “I always assumed I would be killed by one of my own experiments, even on earth before all this. Like I would make the first true AI, and it would murder me.”

 

Keith snorted, “before all this, I thought I was going to die in that damn shack.”

 

Pidge squinted at Keith, “did you really build that shack, and live in a desert, because you were following a strange feeling and a conspiracy theory?”

 

“Umm, yeah? Why else would I do that?” Keith sounded genuinely confused.

 

Pidge lifted their head, and put up one finger. “My first reaction is serial killer, but after spending time with you, it seems unlikely.”

 

Keith sighed, as if this wasn’t the first time he had been pegged as the serial killer type. “What's your second reaction, then?” he asked.

 

Pidge put up a second finger, “Second, I would assume the shack was a space for you to nail chicks in private.” They shrugged as if that was no big deal.

 

Keith’s laugh was so loud and immediate, it shocked Lance, and Pidge jumped where they sat, startled. “No, absolutely not,” he stressed. “Is that what you would build a shack for?” Keith was still laughing lightly as he spoke.

 

Pidge’s eyes widen slightly, as if they had come to a realization, but all they did was respond with a sassy answer,  _ “I would build a desert shack to nail robots, and by nail, I mean build.” _ .  

 

Lance felt like he was missing something important, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Keith had no game. Honestly, he thought Pidge was more observant than that. He stayed quiet, still not ready to joke about their approaching demise, but also appreciating their conversation as it floated around him. He distantly noted that he was right, Keith and Pidge got along well. 

 

They continued to poke at each other with increasingly snarky remarks. 

 

_ “Your mullet was another reason I thought, serial killer.” _

 

_ “It's not a fucking mullet!” _

 

_ “It’s just an observation.” _

 

_ “But it's literally not a mullet. Mullets are business in front, party in back. But mines long in the front too!” _

 

_ “So, what? You’re just party all over?” _

 

Numb, that's how Lance felt. He was almost to numb to put a name to it. He didn’t even come out of his own head to back up Pidge about Keith's Mullet. The only thing that could rouse him now, was a potential escape plan or... the very next thing that came out of Pidge’s mouth.

 

“So, what were you two doing in this part of the ship?” Pidge asked, casually curious.

 

It was a fair question, almost no one went this deep into the castle, but a thread of fear went through Lance. It was strange that he still wanted to guard his secrets, even now, but he knew he would die on this hill if need be. Possibly literally.

 

“Why does it matter?” Keith asked, before Lance could say anything. 

 

Pidge shrugged, “I’m curious, and we are probably going to freeze to death.” 

 

Lance could feel the air cooling, and knew they were right. He glance at Keith, who looked back at him. Even in the face of death they weren’t ready to share. The red hum in Lance’s mind felt faintly like  _ understanding _ , the same way Blue communicated, or was he just imagining it?

 

“Nothing, we were doing nothing,” Lance answered.

 

Pidge glared at him, “We are going to die, why won't you just tell me?”

 

“Why do you care so much?” Keith jumped in defensively, which only made them seem more suspicious.

 

Pidge leaned forward, and scrutinized them. “Because, most of the doors back here are locked, I had to have Coran open mine. I just want to know what you two could possibly be up to, in a labyrinth of hallways full of locked doors.”

 

“We made a bet!” Lance lied, his voice convincingly high and stressed. The hum in his mind shifted, and he  _ knew  _ that Keith had caught onto his ploy.

 

Keith slapped Lance’s arm, “Don’t tell them!” He yelled, immediately in sync with the lie. Holy shit! Were they reading each other's minds, or emotions? Lance wanted to drop all pretences, grab Keith by the shoulders, shake him and scream ‘IS THIS NOT FREAKING YOU OUT?!’. But he didn’t, now wasn’t the time. He smoothed over any reaction, and continued their lie.

 

Lance pushed Keith, “It's really embarrassing for Keith, he made me promise not to say.”   

 

“Me!? Its embarrassing for you!” Keith pushed Lance back. They fell into a bickering match that was also a slap fight.

 

“JUST TELL ME!” Pidge yelled as they threw their arms up.

 

Lance slapped Keith one last time before they stopped. He had to think fast. Pidge wasn’t going to let this drop in the face of certain death, and Lance really didn't want to explain everything between Keith and himself, as his final living act. He looked around for something, anything, that could distract from this subject. The only thing in the hall with them was the still glowing, dismantled door panel.

 

“Let me take a look at the door,” Lance demanded in a poor attempt to divert the topic. He crawled across the floor, scooting past Pidge. He reached out for the hand sensor that was connected to the wall by glowing blue wires.

 

Pidge made a sound between a sigh and a growl, “I told you, its loc-”

 

The door whooshed open. 

 

Everyone looked as surprised as Lance felt, his hand was still on the illuminated blue panel that kept the door open.

 

Pidge quickly unhooked the battery to conserve power, and the door stayed open. “I swear it was locked.” They whispered.

 

“Guess not?” Lance tried to sound casual, but he was really starting to freak out. There was only so much weird shit you could handle at once, and he had already suppressed one freak out in the last ten minutes. 

 

Keith got up and went through the door, taking the light with him. “It doesn't matter why it opened, our chance of survival just went up from zero, to not zero.”  

 

Lance brushed off his whirling throughs the best he could, now wasn’t the time. He needed to stay calm, and keep his head above the waves of his own emotions. He followed the retreating light with Pidge close behind.

 

“How did you do that?” Pidge asked, they were as serious as Lance had ever seen them.

 

“I don’t know?” He answered honestly, but sounded unsure.

 

Pidge looked at Lance suspiciously as they walked. He felt nauseous having a friend look at him like that, but he pushed down the need to vomit, and tried to ignore the rising sensation of panic. His anxiety whispered that they won't believe him, they will think he's a liar.

 

Finally, Pidge’s face softened, “You really don’t know, do you?” they concluded.

 

Lance nodded, his chest loosened. Relief washed through him. 

 

Keith fell into step with them on Lance’s right. He leveled Lance with a significant look, and  _ reassurance  _ hummed through his head, it let him know Keith believed him too. It was also a stark reminder of the other thing Lance was trying not to panic about. 

 

“Have you ever opened a locked door in the castle before?” Keith  Inquired .

 

It was a simple question, an obvious one to ask in this situation, but it legitimately blew Lance’s mind. Because it brought something to his attention, that he had never thought of before. Everyone in the castle has talked about locked doors, locked mirrors, locked functionality, but…

 

“I’ve... never encountered a locked door?” His answer was a question to himself. Was he remembering correctly?

 

Keith and Pidge both stopped walking. It took Lance a few steps to realize he was alone. He turned to face his friends. He couldn’t deal with this now. There was a crisis, and they needed to figure that out first. 

 

Lance felt himself gearing back up into survival mode. “I don’t know what's going on. But this means we’re not trapped, so let's get to the others, and figure it out later,” he pleaded.

 

“Lance is right,” Keith agreed. Their eyes met, and Lance felt the fiery hum always in his mind get stronger, and it felt even more in sync.

 

“Let's do this.” Pidge lifted their tools, and began to move on to the next locked door.

 

Just below the hum that Lance knew was Keith, a second hum started up. It was much weaker, but familiar, he knew it was Pidge, although it didn’t convey any emotions. Just like during training, they were truly focused on the same goal, it was a fight to survive.

 

Ooo

 

At the next door, Pidge triple checked that it was locked after they powered it up. Then they stepped back, and gestured for Lance try and open it. He almost refused to try, but the looming threat of death was more persuasive than his potential identity crisis.

 

“Go ahead,” Pidge offered, and watched with an eagle eye.

 

Even Keith is paying close attention, as Lance slowly placed his hand on the panel. 

 

The moment was suspended in time, and nothing happened. Then, because life hated Lance, the door opened. It glided smoothly on its track, mocking him.

 

Lance opened three more locked doors on their way to the control room. He didn’t want to think about the implications of his ability to open the doors. He was tired, his adrenaline was fading, and he was done with near death experiences.  Lance felt like he was a moment away from unraveling. His chest burned, his head was spinning, and he was cold. His arms were crossed as if to hold himself together while they walked the final stretch of hall, to the control room. 

 

Pidge stopped in front of the final door. “Its locked,” they confirmed after a few minutes of tinkering. When they finished powering the it up, Lance approached and touched the panel. The double doors opened, and Lance came chest to face with a kneeling Allura.

 

She blinked, and then looked up at him, her mouth was open in surprise, that morphed into teary relief. 

 

“Lance!” She yelled, as she launched herself from her knees, and crashed into Lance’s chest, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. “I thought we were trapped! How did you get the doors powered?” She half yelled into his neck where her face was pressed, then pulled back to look at him expectantly. She was obviously still worked up, he suspected she had wound herself into a frenzy while trying to get out of the control room.

 

Lance looked over Allura’s shoulder, and saw Shiro was standing by the Balmera crystal, glaring at him… his galra arm hung limp at his side.

 

“We’re here too, you know…” Pidge said dispassionately, and leaned around Lance to peer into the room.

 

“Oh! Pidge! Good, maybe you can help me figure out what's wrong with the ship!” Allura wasted no time, she grabbed Pidge’s arm and pulled them across the room to the crystal.

 

“Good to see you too, Allura,” Keith mumbled sarcastically, and moved to stand next to Lance in the doorway.

 

“Keith!’ Shiro called, and jogged over. He clasped his only working hand on Keith shoulder and smiled. “Glad to see you’re OK.” 

 

Silence fell, and there was a tense moment when Shiro looked at Lance. Then he smiled, it was tight and strained. “You too, Lance,” he managed to say.

 

Before the interaction could become any more awkward, a distressed yell from Allura drew Shiro away, and he hurried to the control panel where the Princess stood with Pidge. The three of them looked upset and were talking in panicked tones.

 

A light, warm touch on Lance’s shoulder pulled his attention away from the scene unfolding across the room. He looked down to find Keith leaning towards him, just enough for their shoulders to meet, and Keith was looking up at him. An unspeakable amount of emotions swept through Lance, and he wanted to wrap his arms around the shoulders next to his. He wanted the comfort, and needed the contact, now that they were out of immediate danger. For the first time in a while, he wanted to talk to someone about how he was feeling. But now wasn’t the time, so Lance pressed down on his roaring emotions, only vaguely concerned about the consequences of doing so. 

 

Keith smirked at Lance, and nudged his shoulder. “It sound like Pidge just told them about the quintessence,” he whispered.

 

Lance nodded, “yeah.” 

 

They watched quietly for a few minutes, as Pidge power up small pieces of equipment with their battery pack, and started to scan the crystal. 

 

“You know,” Keith began without taking his eyes off the diagnostic process. Lance pulled his eyes away to look at him. “Shiro really is going to kill you, if you don’t tell him whats going on with you and Allura.”

 

Lance chuckled, although it was a little flat. “Did you see the look he gave me when she hugged me?”

 

Keith snorted, “yeah, I thought he was going to punch you in the face.”  

 

Lance cracked a smile, the light conversation calming his turbulent mind. “Well if he did punch me, then he would have to explain that it was because he has a big crush on the Princess. So, my job would be done.”

 

Keith looked at Lance and sighed, shaking his head. “You would see that as a win, wouldn’t you? You really are too nice.” 

 

Keith smirked around the backhanded compliment, and Lance felt like the floor had fallen away. He tripped over his own response, leaving his mouth open without a sound.  Was he ever going to get used to Keith complimenting him? fortunately his fumbling brain was rescued from having to answer when Pidge yell across the room.

 

“Hey, Idiots! Come here,” they called, and waved their arm, beckoning.

 

Keith immediately leaned away from Lance so they were no longer touching. “I guess that's us,” he muttered, as he wandered away. Lance followed close behind. He glanced at Shiro to gage the leader's mood, and noticed his expression was tight, similar to how he had glared at Lance earlier. Except he wasn’t looking at Lance. The others had turned to Pidge’s equipment readings, but Shiro was looking at Keith. What's that all about? Lance didn’t have time to ponder as Pidge started explaining more details about the crystals condition.

 

“I was hoping I could fix this problem now, but I can’t. Although, things aren't as bad as I first assumed-” 

 

“You mean, when you panicked in your Lair,” Lance interrupted. His self control was in tatters from all the stress, but the comment got a light laugh out of Keith, while Shiro and Allura echoed the word ‘lair’ in confusion.

 

Pidge glared at him, “Yes, when I had a perfectly normal reaction to all the Castle’s quintessence being gone.” They took a deep breath and started again, “The crystal isn’t drained. Actually, it's as powerful as ever, but all of its quintessence is being suppressed. It can’t spread any farther than the very center of the crystal.” They pointed to the glowing center of the rock. “Which means the Lions will be down as well, with their quintessence suppressed. It also why Shiro is a bit… limp,” They concluded.

 

“So, how do we get it out?” Shiro asked, holding his Glara arm self consciously, and ignoring Keith and Lance’s snickering.

 

Allura answered in a resigned tone, “We can’t.”

 

A stunned silence followed, and although the ‘why’ already hung in the air, Keith still voiced it a moment later, with a defiant glare, “Why not?” He crossed his arms as if preparing for a conflict. Lance knew that if a solid punch could fix their power outtage, Keith would be the first to volunteer.

 

Allura crossed her arms to mirror Keith, but she didn’t look as if she was trying to be standoffish, it was more like she was trying to comfort herself. “For the same reason the Galra have left  Yeppeuda alone all this time, it seems to be located in the center of quite a large section of dead space that wasn't here ten thousand years ago,” she answered quietly.

 

Lance shivered, was he scared, or was it just the cold settling into the ship? “Dead space? That sounds… ominous,” he stuttered. Someone had to fill in the Hunk sized hole of nervous fear, and state the obvious.

 

Allura nodded sagely, “Yes, and I’m afraid it’s a bit more than ominous, but Coran can explain it better than I can.” She looked around, searchingly, “Where is Coran?”

 

“We were hoping he was in the control room with you,” Pidge explained.

 

Allura looked from Pidge, to Keith, and then to Lance, befuddled. “What do you mean here with me? The lockdown… he had to be with you, how else would you have gotten the doors open?” She insisted.

 

Pidge and Keith turned to Lance, Allura’s eyes were drawn to to him by their movement. She stared at him, bewildered, but expecting an explanation.

 

The walls around Lance’s heart tried to close, tight and crushing, but the strain of the day's events had left them brittle, and they crumbled under the pressure of Allura’s questioning gaze. 

 

“I opened them,” Lance admitted. He had an idea of what his ability to command Altean tech meant, but he knew it wasn’t something he could hide, or more accurately should hide, despite what his instincts were screaming at him.

 

“You? But…” Allura began to protest, mouth open, the obvious reasons seemed to be on the tip of her tongue. She looked at Keith, then slowly over to Pidge. When neither of them jumped in to deny Lance’s statement, she closed her mouth, and stared at Lance with an unreadable expression.

 

“We were just as surprised as you, Princess. But Lance really did open the doors,” Pidge confirmed.

 

Hope and sorrow wared in Allura’s eyes. She approached Lance slowly, as if he was a flickering candle, susceptible to the smallest disturbance.  “But this means…” Her voice cracked, and she let her word tumble away.

 

The weight of her tear filled eyes, hopeful face, and quivering mouth, was too much for Lance. He had never had someone look at him with so much… everything. At that moment he was everything to her, everything she had lost. Lance took an unconscious step back, and met something warm. A hand landed on his arm, steadying him.

 

Keith’s voice came from over his shoulder, “we don’t have time for this, we need to figure out what to do next. Hunk and Coran have limited time!” He barked, breaking the moment. His hand slid away, the tips of his fingers lingering down Lance’s arm for a second longer than necessary. Keith went to stand next to Shiro, which was the position he would normally take in a group setting. 

 

The word resigned, described Shiro’s face when Lance admitted he opened the doors, and when attention was drawn to Keith, he became tense, almost angry. It only lasted a moment, and then it was gone.

 

“Keiths, right,” Pidge declared, as they stepped forward into the middle of the group. “We should reorganize our priorities now that we’ve made it to the control room, and confirmed that we can’t fix the crystal.” 

 

Shiro took command, and moved to Pidge’s side. He began a patented pep talk,  “I don’t want to panic you guys, but we are in a tough spot right now. We have to work together…” 

 

Lance brought his hand to his chin, as he began to organize their current resources, location, and information. He formed and reformed a plan of action based on what he knew, and what would give them all the best chance. His mind fell easily back into a crisis driven mode. He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he didn’t notice Shiro had trailed off, until Keith spoke up. 

 

“What have you got, Lance?” He questioned, the confidence in his voice was reflected in the fierce hum  of their connection.

 

Lance blinked, only now realizing that Shiro had stopped talking, because no one but Allura had been paying any attention to him. Both Pidge and Keith were looking to Lance, while Lance had been staring off into the middle distance, calculating. 

 

“Me?” Lance squeaked, pointing at himself.

 

“Yeah, you. I can tell by your face that you have an idea, and we don’t have time for pep talks and group planning. No offence Shiro.” Keith was straightforward, and hard hitting. He was also right. Hunk and Coran were trapped somewhere in the castle, with questionable amounts of air and heat. He pushed the thought away, if he lingered on it, he would shut down.

 

Lance smirked, Keith’s faith in him bolstered his confidence. He didn’t have the luxury or the capacity to worry, so he took the lead, because Keith believed in him, and because he had to for the team.

 

“Pidge, do you have enough batteries, and equipment in your lair for another door powering rig?” Lance asked.

 

Pidge nodded.

 

“Go, make it, and bring it here, as fast as you can,” Lance commanded.

 

Pidge didn’t respond, they just took of at a run, back the way they came from the lair. They knew that their part was going to be the biggest time sink.

 

Lance turned to Allura, “make a list of the most likely place Coran would go, order them from closest, to farthest from here. Then find the fastest route to the engine room, and start trying to open the doors.”

 

Allura didn’t question him either, she turned and grabbed the rig on the floor.

 

“Keith and…” Lance called, then hesitated. He side eyed Shiro, a strange sensation clenched in his gut, but he pushed forward, “Shiro. We will need as many of Pidge’s batteries as you can carry.” 

 

Keith took the order and ran, following Pidge’s footsteps. Shiro’s eyes raked over Lance from head to toe, judging him. He looked like he was considering something. After the agonizing seconds passed, Shiro looked at Allura and nodded, then he turned to follow Keith. 

 

Lance let out the breath he was holding, but he stayed perfectly still until Shiro was completely out of sight around the corner. He put a hand to his chest, and sagged in relief. He shook of the weird feeling that he got when everyone, including Allura, followed his orders. Now he just had to deal with the agony of waiting, it gnawed on Lance’s frayed nerves. 

 

“Lance,” Allura called through the faint blue light provided by Pidge’s equipment.

 

A whole new sensation of unease blanketed Lance, but he ignored it, right now, they had to remain focused until Pidge finished the second rig. Unfortunately nothing could speed that up. Every tick was one moment closer to possible disaster for Hunk and Coran, but thinking about it wouldn’t help.

 

Allura was on the floor by a far door, a bunch of hidden drawers were open all around her, over flowing with hard copies of floor plans, and system information. Lance approached, and dropped to his knees in the bubble of blue light, across from the Princess. A sea of maps lay between them. 

 

Allura began to speak over the buzz of Pages battery pack, she didn’t look up from figuring out how to power the door. “I have marked on the map all the places Coran is likely to be, and numbered them based on distance, and how likely he is to be there.” She placed her hand on the door behind her, “And this door is the start of the route to the engine room.”

 

Lance leaned over the maps on his hands and knees. Various rooms were neatly labeled, and the quickest path was outlined to each of them.  “Good, good…” He  acknowledged, also not looking up, in an attempt to avoid awkward conversation.  

 

The lack of eye contact didn't deter Allura, it might of been what helped her push forward. She spoke with a deliberate cadence, that made Lance’s hand clench the map in his hand. “I know, that now is not the time, but if you are part Altean, I would like-”

 

“Princess,” Lance interrupted, with his head still bowed, and no idea what he was going to say. But he knew, that he couldn’t listen to what Allura was going to ask. “If…” The word leaked out, with the certainty that no one should have to ask for what she wanted, family, home, any small part of what she lost. Lance found his voice, “If I am part Altean, I won't reject it, even though I was raised on Earth, I promise. We can talk about it, when this is all over.” He meant it, he realized as he said it. 

 

A small hitched breath, almost a hiccup, echoed. Lance heard Allura shift, and knew that she was looking at him now, but he couldn’t return the gesture. He didn’t want to see her glassy eyes, or the small hopeful smile he imagined she wore. He didn’t want her to thank him. The burn of pity, and anger, that ran through the channels of his body, would scorch him if she did. They weren’t feelings that would help Allura, and she didn’t need to see them on his face. He heard her begin to remove the door panel, and listened to her work.

 

It helped calm Lance down, knowing that they were making progress towards Hunks location… 

 

“Allura?” Lance murmured. 

 

She acknowledged him without looking away from her task.

 

“Are you OK with trying to get to Hunk first?” The question hovered in the dim light. Lance worried that he was playing favorites, making Corran wait. He wanted her to understand his reasoning.

 

When she did finally speak, her words tapped on the glass of Lance’s mind, and surprised him. “No, you made the right call. All the places Coran is likely to be are closer to us than the engine room, which is at the bottom of the castle. The father you are from the control room -the center of the ship-, the faster it will become cold.” She took a shaking breath, the stress of the situation was taking its toll. “Pidge could open these doors faster than me, and if you had asked her to do this, and not make a second rig, she would have listened. But you sacrificed precious time to give Coran a fighting chance, thank you.” 

 

He couldn’t justify putting all their resources towards rescuing Hunk, when Coran was an unknown factor, even if he was likely to be in a better position. He came up with the best plan he could to give them both a more equal chance. She understood, Lance should have known she would, that was probably why she let him take the lead. Lance allowed his mind to tumble around with that thought, confirming all was right in his in his universe.

 

“You truly are coming into your role as the Blue paladin, Lance,” Allura’s voice quivered, She sounded almost, proud. 

 

“My what?” Lance looked up. The shift in topic was so sudden, it smacked the awkwardness away. He sat back on his heels.

 

Allura looked up from the mess of wires she had been separating, she looked more composed than he expected. “You know, the Blue paladin’s role as a part of Voltron,” she  elaborated, as if reminding him of something he should have known.

 

Lance replied with a blank stare, that mirrored how he felt. It was like his brain couldn't concoct an appropriate emotion. He had a role, like the others? He had assumed that he became the Blue paladin due to a fluke, because Blue was the friendliest of the lions.

 

Allura sat up straight, and casually -probably unwittingly- dropped a reality shattering bomb. “Remember, the first day when I told you about the paladins traits? The Blue Paladin is like water, they have many states, they strive for balance, and are best suited for second in command,” she recited. 

 

“WHAT?!” Lance screamed, and threw himself to his feet, stumbling a couple steps away to the very edge of their light. He stood stock still in the shadows, arms limp as his sides, as his entire being was bowled over by pure, unadulterated, all encompassing, shock. Somehow, he was more surprised by this, then the newly reveal possibility that he was part alien. Being an alien took no effort, or talent on his part. He had more trouble accepting that he was succeeding at something, that he possessed any of the traits that were just listed.

 

Allura was used to Lance’s dramatics, and simply craned her neck to look at him from the floor. “It's a metaphor, because water can be solid or-”

 

“I get that, what was all that other stuff!?” Lance demanded.

 

“Well,” Allure looked off to the side, and touched her index finger to her chin. “The yellow paladin is the left leg. They represent compassion, stability, and caution, they’re the team's foundation. But the right leg is what gives us the balance to stand, and catches us before we fall. The blue paladin is the most flexible of all, able to adapt to situations and people, it makes them a natural diplomat, a team supporter, and a leader second only to the head,” She recalled.

 

“What…” Lance breathed, brearley spoken. 

 

This was like when he was a kid, and he had jumped into the ocean from really high up, significantly higher than ever before. It was fun, up until he was under water. With every stroke, he expected to break the surface, but he didn’t. He was much deeper than he had thought, and was afraid he wouldn’t make out. Only now, it was an ocean of expectations.

 

“You interrupted me that day…” Allura slowly got to her feet as realization dawned on her, “And I forgot to tell you later, didn’t I?” She confessed, and was thoughtful for a tick, before whispering, “I remember that I told Shiro about it…” She looked at the ground, sparing Lance her pity.

 

“Yeah, but Shiro picked Keith as second...” Lance wasn’t really mad about that, he understood that he wasn’t leader material. The fact that Shiro knew the Blue paladin was meant to be co-leader and overlooked him anyway, only made him sad, but it was an accepting sadness.

 

“I know.” Allura looked at him, and her frown deepened when she saw Lance’s resigned face. “When he told me, I didn’t understand, but this explains why you didn’t step up earlier,” She huffed, and crossed her arms. With only the slight shift of her posture she became the embodiment of righteous anger, and Lance got the feeling that this was an old argument coming to the surface. “Later, I assumed he picked Keith because they were close before Voltron, and maybe because he had expectations of Keith, he wanted him to be the type to lead.” She put her hands on her hips, “I told him it was a bad idea, That he couldn’t make a paladin go against their nature, but he didn't listen!” She finished, sounding pleasantly vindicated.

 

Lance remembered the night on the observation deck, when Keith had unloaded his feelings about his time as leader. How insecure and stressed he had been, because he was bad at it, and how relieved he looked to admit it.   

 

“Keith didn’t want to be leader,” Lance confirmed, cementing Allura’s vindication. 

 

She lifted her chin, and smiled smugly. “I’m not surprised, Red paladins have been notoriously bad leaders,” She explained, and she would know best. Allura had known previous paladins, and was connected to all the lions. But she wasn’t infallible.

 

Lance was proof that sometimes Allura was wrong. He wasn’t a leader, or balanced. He was a fuck up, it was a truth that settled into a well worn spot in his chest, and simmered. He was coming apart against the pressure of his useless insecurities, and all the awful events of the day. He wanted to laugh, or joke, and shrug this conversation off, but his shoulders were weighed down by too many worries, and he didn't have the strength to carry this one anymore.   

 

“That doesn’t mean I’m a good leader! Blue is the friendlies lion, maybe I was just convenient!” Lance yelled. He didn't mean to, but underneath, this was him pleading to be proven wrong . He didn’t try to backpedal, or hide his welling tears. He had learned, that sometimes you had to reach out, Hunk and Keith had helped him, so clenched his fists at his side, and waited. 

 

Allura stomped her foot, “Don’t you talk about yourself like that!” She snapped.

 

Lance jerked back, startled, causing a tear to tumble over his lashes. She glared at him, and he could only stare back, wide eyed.

 

Her demeanor didn’t soften, and she took another menacing step towards him, farther into the darkness. “The Blue lion is just as adaptable as her paladin, which is why it's the friendlies.” She came closer, her angry gaze fixed on Lance, “BUT, she only thrives with a pilot just as flexible and friendly,” she firmly settled both her hand on his shoulders. She shed her anger, and in its place was an earnest smile, “She only thrives with the pilot meant for her, and that's you Lance,” she insisted.

 

“But…” The word was weak, and held the last of Lance’s doubts.

 

Allura’s grip tightened, “No, buts. Blue has not been this content with a pilot since her first. Trust me.” She offered.

 

Her honest words mended one of the many broken things deep in Lance, and more tears came. He didn't try to save face, it was too late. He simply nodded, and accepted her truth as his own. It slotted itself into the spot reserved for less flattering opinions of his worth, and some of the awful burning subsided. 

 

Allura went back to the door, and began to work again. “Now that, that's settled, back to work. We’ve wasted to much time.” 

 

Lance wiped his face, and went to sit next to her. He felt useless without something to do, but only a moment later the door panel lit up blue. Allura grabbed Lance's wrist, using her considerably greater strength, she yanked his hand over, and pressed it to the panel. 

 

When the door swished open, she beamed at him, and even with all the terrible shit going down, he couldn't help but smile back.

 

Footsteps echoed from the hallway, disrupting the emotionally charged atmosphere. Lance looked looked over his shoulder. A soft orange light approached, overpowering the little blue world of the control room. 

 

Shiro and Keith walked through the door, carrying dozens of Pidge’s battery cells. For the first time, Lance was disappointed to see Keith. Time was short, and they needed Pidge’s rig.

 

Lance looked at Shiro, and recognized that everything he thought about their leader was uprooted. The blatant favoritism that Lance had overlooked was unavoidable now, and it made Shiro very human. It was humbling, and ultimately for the best. 

 

Keith piled his batteries by the control panel, and made a beeline for Lance. The unexpected approach pulled his attention. 

 

“Keith, what's- Whoa!” Lance yelped, when Keith walked past and grabbed his arm, dragging him along. With a purposeful stride and serious eyes, Keith hauled Lance to the dark side of the room, where they were completely hidden by shadows. He stopped, and turned on his heal so fast that Lance almost ran into him.

 

“Ace, are you, OK?” Keith hissed quietly, he was like a sharp edge, with no where to aim.

 

Cold fear, slid down down Lance’s back. He recognized that Keith wasn’t upset with him, but damn, was he scary. “I’m fine, but you’re scaring me,” he assured, smiling. he tried smoothing the corners of his own jagged emotions, to calm Keith, the way Hunk could calm Lance.

 

Keith deflated. He looked at the floor, and then back up with kinder eyes. He reached out and ran his knuckled down Lance’s cheek. “Sorry, It just… I felt,”  Keith murmured, confused and worried.

 

“Rojo,” Lance grabbed Keith's hand before it retreated, and held it tight to preserve the joy the touch ignited. “You felt my emotions, right?” he asked, desperately craving the affection and support Keith could provide. He glanced at the lit section of the room, and spied Shiro watching, his eyes were squinted, as if trying to see what they were doing. Lance dropped Keith's hand.

 

Keith followed Lance’s line of sight, and nodded. “Yeah, it's happening for you, too?” He asked, slipping into his detached attitude. 

 

Lance wanted to pull him close, but knew that this was just Keiths way of coping. “Yeah, since the hallway we were trapped in,” He confirmed.

 

“Right, we will have to talk about this later,” Keith tipped his head towards Shrio, indicating the need for privacy when they have that conversation. Then he walked away, aloof and business like. Shiro watched him return with an overtly disappointed expression, which Keith ignored.

 

Lance stayed in the dark corner, watching his team in the light. Keith had never been that protective before. He had looked fierce, ready to strike down whatever had upset Lance. And Lance was sure, that when he said they would talk about ‘this’ later, Keith didn’t just mean their new emotional connection, but also what had upset him. How did the connection even work? Lance tried to send a feeling to Keith, and tracked him closely. No reaction, it didn’t seem like they had much control over it, he sighed.

 

Alone in the shadows, Lance unfurled his emotional defences. He touched his cheek where Keith had caressed him, and watched as he stacked batteries with Shiro. He was beautiful, and well blended… unlike Lance. The acidic burn of ugly jealousy… didn’t come. He couldn’t remember the last time he had admired Keith purely based on aesthetics. Lately he was always noting how relaxed, or happy Keith looked, and was simply content to be a part of the reason why. Keith didn’t care about his own looks, and was not nearly as well put together on the inside, which Lance found reassuring, and oddly endearing. Keith was a hot, beautiful, mess, and Lance loved him…

 

“Fuck.” 

 

He loved Keith. When had his crush bloomed into love? Lance had always believed that you couldn’t love someone unless you loved yourself, apparently he was wrong, but he highly doubted this love was of the healthy variety. His emotions weren’t stable, not while he was such a mess. If he let this slip, Keith would reject him, and Lance didn't think he would survive that right now.  

 

He wanted to cry. The weight on his shoulders was crushing him, a feather more and he was done. He was going to dissolve in his frustration and grief, as the weight dragged him deeper into his anxiety. This couldn’t happen now, his seams couldn’t burst during a crisis, he had to bite down on his panic. 

 

He needed help, more than Allura, and something Keith couldn’t give. He needed Hunk. But Hunk and Coran were trapped, and they needed the team, and the team needed Lance. The panic drained in the presence of necessity. Lance was afraid, but he needed to be strong.

 

Hunk needed him.

 

Maybe he could fill the Blue Paladin’s role after all, be what the team needed. Lance felt lighter than ever before, as if he could jump and touch the stars… no, wait. Lance bounced on his toes, he was literally lighter. 

 

“We are running OUT OF TIME!” Pidge’s shout rang from the hallway. They bounded through the door, aided by the diminishing gravity, with a newly built rig on their back. They looked frantic, and their fingers were covered in small cuts and burns from rushing to finish their work.

 

Lance ran into the light. It was time to get the rest of their team. Without checking with Shiro, or even giving him the chance to speak, Lance began throwing orders.

 

“We are going to split up,” he commanded.

 

“I don’t think-”  Shiro began to object.

 

“No, you don’t,” Lance bit out. Shiro recoiled, and Lance leveled him with a chilling glare, before he turned back to the others. “We split up, Pidge with me and Keith, Shiro with-”

 

“Lance, I really-” 

 

They didn't have time for power plays, or politics. Shiro delaying them enraged Lance, it coiled tight inside him, real anger. He wheeled around, and the words ripped from his mouth like a snake strike, with the same tone he used on Pidge in their lair.

 

“We don't have time for this Shiro! You dropped the ball, and I have a plan!” He reined in his temper, “I’m charge right now, and I'm going to go, and save my best friend.” He was decisive, and hard.

 

Without missing a beat, Lance shifted gears. “Pidge, and Keith are with me, we are getting Hunk. Allura, take Shiro, the map, and the second rig. Bring Coran back,” he ordered, firmly.

 

Lance didn’t wait to see if Shiro listened, he trusted Allura to take charge of her side of the mission. He quickly made his way to the door the Princess recently opened. He could feel Keith’s determination pulse in his mind. Pidge’s quieter, but confident buzz, sprang up, and harmonized with them. Their only focus was saving Hunk.

 

The first door felt like it was an eternity away. When it finally came into sight around a corner, Pidge broke into a sprint. They didn’t bother properly dismantling the panel, and prided it from the wall with a long almost screwdriver. Their movements were becoming frantic, tremors plagued their hands, and they dropped one of the crystals three times. 

 

“Pidge, slow down,” The words hurt coming out. Lance didn't want Pidge to slow down at all, but he could see them making more mistakes.

 

“I can’t,” they snapped, and didn’t stall their pace. Another crystal slipped from their shaking fingers. 

 

“Pidge!” Keith barked, aggressively. Lance grabbed his shoulder, and Keith closed his mouth. He was scared too, but taking it out on them wouldn’t help. 

 

Pidge swiped the crystal off the floor, with tears just behind their eyes. “If something happens to Hunk, it's my fault. I sent him to the engine room,” they  croaked.

 

Lance was at their side in an instant, arm around their shoulders. “Everything will be fine. You got this Pidge, your the best. You know it.”

 

Pidge nodded, jaw clenched against their emotions. “Yeah, I got this, I’m awesome.”  They repeated the mantra,  _ ‘I’m awesome, I’m awesome, I’m awesome,’  _ under their breath. Their hands steadied, eyes sharpened, and the door lit up in minutes.

 

Lance slammed his hand on the panel, and they were all running again.

 

After many doors, panting and exhausted, they arrived at the final one. Directly below the common hanger, was the engine room. Lance’s legs trembled, goosebumps rippled over his skin from the chill, and his nose was beginning to run. He was scared, and wished Blue was awake, so he could hear her comforting purr. 

 

Metal screamed, when Pidge pried the panel off the wall. They began to work, shaking, but not from fear. Their fingertips were red from the cold, and their teeth chattered.

 

Lance banged on the door, “HUNK?!” He screamed, but only silence returned. He pressed his hand to the metal. “No,” He denied, even when his skin began to hurt. It was frigid. “Pidge, hurry,” Lance gasped.

 

“I’m trying!” Pidge growled, their voice rough from the dry air.

 

“HURRY!” Lance pleaded, as the cold burned his hand, all the way to the hollow forming in his heart.

 

Keith closed in behind him, concerned. “Lance?” He questioned, closer than he would normally dare when someone else could see. Lance turned his face away to hide the tears already welling in his eyes. He looked down at the door panel on the floor, and waited for it to glow blue.

 

He wasn’t cold anymore, he was hot, too hot. His feet were on fire, covered in burning sand. The mist rose around him, humid and suffocating. The sun poured down through where ceiling used to be, and Lance looked out onto the ocean. It was shrouded by sheets of rain. He was soaked, already drowning. The water filled his empty heart, carved out by the painful cries of his mother. Not even the rain could dampen the awful sound, that echoed from the house on the shore behind him. He wanted to fall from the clouds, burst on the burning sand, and be mist. To be nothing.

 

“Got it!” Pidge announced, and Lance was back in the freezing hallway.

 

He threw himself at the scanner, and slapped his palm down. At the same time he was already turning his body to launch himself through the doorway. The gravity was barely that of the moon. Lance glided into the dark room, with a stream of fading light at his back. His long shadow stretched over a lump on the floor, it was curled next some type of engine cylinder, and wrapped in a strange red material.

 

He ran over to it, “HUNK!” He floated to his knees besides the bundle, and pulled back the blanket. “Buddy!”

 

Hunk was still. Lance touched his cheek, and the skin was cool. Pain rained down on Lance. It rose up from his chest, and came out as a strangled sound. He was underwater, he couldn't breath. It was happening all over again, and Lance was losing his grip. He was breaking, ready to fall apart. The rapid footsteps of the others were muffled.

 

“Is he breathing?!” Keith’s voice parted the sea, and Lance gasped a breath. 

 

Anchored by Keith, Lance separated himself from his panic. “I don’t know?! He’s cold!” He supplied.

 

Keith pressed his ear to Hunks chest, and listened. Lance saw a small lift, and drop of his shoulders, and then his eyes slid closed. “He has a heartbeat,” Keith announced, his voice cracked, emotional, but restrained.

 

Lance’s head whipped around to Pidge when they spoke up. “We have to get him to the control room where it's warmer!” They directed.

 

Lance didn’t have time to register his immense relief, they weren’t done yet. His break down would have to wait, as long as Hunk had a chance. In the low gravity it wasn’t hard to pick him up, the strange cloth slid to the floor. They ran as fast as possible with their awkward burden.

 

Coran was the first to see them when they burst through the door. Lance felt flash of joy at the sight of the man, but couldn’t fully appreciate it, with Hunks cooling body on his shoulders.

 

“We need to get Hunk warm, NOW!” He hollered, grabbing Allura and Shiro’s attention. 

 

Coran ran to the hidden drawers where the maps were stored, closely followed by Allura. He threw opened another secret cubby, and pulled out two more strange red blankets, he handed one to Allura. He laid one on the floor off to the side, “Put Hunk on this,” he directed.

 

Lance, Keith, and Pidge complied quickly. Allura spread the second blanket over Hunk. The material was shiney, and flowed like liquid, but had the texture of fleece. “These blankets absorb heat, and only release it into living beings. From the warmer object or person to the colder person, for maximum efficiency. We will have to take shifts to warm him up,” Coran explained.

 

Lance jumped forward to take the first shift, “I’ll go fir-”

 

“No, Lance. You rest, I’ll take first shift,” Shiro commanded, the full weight of his leadership behind his voice.

 

Lance drifted to his knees, and fell back on his butt, exhausted. “Oh good, I’m _ so  _ done leading, now.” He slid into the back seat of the situation, and was grateful that someone else was going to take the wheel.

 

Shiro looked at him with something between begrudging respect, and hurt, “you did good,” he admitted, and turned away. “do I just have to be on the blanket?” He asked.

 

“Yes, it just needs contact,” Allura confirmed.

 

Keith stepped up to where Lance sat. “We found him with one of those blankets, he was laying next to part of the engine.”  

 

Coran slid up to the group, finger poised in the air, ready to explain. “Ah, that would be because our Hunk maximized his survival chance by using his brain,” He pointed to his own head theatrically. “These blankets are in most rooms of the castle, for emergencies. Hunk must have found one, and curled up by the warmest part of the engine to conserve heat,” he concluded.

 

Pidge pushed up their glasses and joined the conversation. “Did Hunk know how the blankets worked?” They questioned.

 

“Probably not,” Allura answered from next to Shiro. “Whether he knew or not, it was his best option. He was simply fortunate that these blankets function as they do, and made efficient use of the engines residual heat.” 

 

Lance felt himself tuning in and out. He acknowledged Coran, smiled when they hugged, and then he drifted away. A typhoon of emotions was raging under his skin, but he was too tired to process them. Now that they had a tick of peace, Lance was ascending past panic to the point of shutting down. His body felt light in the low gravity, he wanted to close his eyes and float. He could only vaguely register what the team was talking about.

 

_ “I might have enough batteries to power the engine for ten seconds, we may be able to boost ourselves out of this dead space. I’m just not sure if I can retrofit the engine in time.” _

 

_ “What about our heat situation, Pidge. it’s getting cold.”  _

 

_ “We only have enough power for one or the other, Shiro. Take a chance on the engine, or heat the control room. I know I can convert the control panel to use my batteries, but that's just stalling the inevitable.” _

 

_ “Well, we can’t just sit here and do nothing!” _

 

_ “We know, Keith. Maybe if we had more information on how dead space works. Coran?” _

 

_ “Dead Space is a unique type of energy, that only exerts pressure on pure quintessence. For our crystal it is the equivalent of being under an ocean's worth of pressure. The Princess is mostly likely unable to access her abilities at the moment, as well.” _

 

_ “If it’s a type of energy, can we dampen it somehow?” _

 

_ “Thats a good thought, Keith. But even if Hunk were awake to help, we don’t have time to build a dampener, and possibly not enough power to run it.” _

 

_ “So we have to decide how much of a risk we are willing to take.” _

 

Lance wasn’t sure how long he sat in a state of half awareness. It must have been a while, because it was Shiro’s supportive hand on his shoulder that brought him back.

 

“Come on buddy, it's your turn. Lay down with Hunk, you can rest and help him at the same time,” He offered. His face was truly friendly for the first time since yesterday.

 

Lance complied, almost robotically. With Shiro’s help, he spread out on the blanket next to his best friend, and was asleep in a tick.

 

The next thing Lance heard was Allura’s voice. “I’m closing the main doors, Pidge is almost ready to power up the control room console,” she announced, and the sound of the doors sliding shut followed.

 

Lance kept his eyes closed, and listened. He deduced that he had slept long enough for the team to decided that powering the engine with the batteries was too risky, and Pidge was almost ready to power up the control room heater. Which meant that they had no escape plan. Soon they would be in zero gravity, waiting for a miracle. They would only have heat for as long as the batteries lasted, and air until the castle ship ran out. 

 

Something tightened around Lance’s waist, it pulled him back against a large, warm surface. It was Hunk, the gravity was so low he hadn’t noticed the arms weight. Lance grabbed the hand that was near his stomach, and squeezed. Hunk was warm, breathing, and for the first time a yellow hum glided through Lance’s mind. He was alive. 

 

Lance crashed, he fell from the precipice of his worry and angst. He had been so certain that Hunk was dead when he felt the cold door, and then touched his cool skin. Even when Keith heard heart a heartbeat, he had been prepared for Hunk to not pull through. 

 

Lance was shaking. All the grief, and relief, he wouldn’t allow himself to feel, broke through the dam he’d been building since the blackout first began. His chest was full, it hurt, and over flowed. He silently cried. He had made decisions that could have cost Hunk his life, and it almost had. He wasn’t sure if he could live with that, not again. 

 

Hunk pulled Lance in tighter, and murmured into his hair, “I’m OK, buddy.” 

 

“You almost died,” Lance hissed low, so he couldn’t be heard by the others over the ambient sound of Pidge working. 

 

“But, I didn’t. Here I am, talking, breathing, and being weirdly mind melded with you,” Hunk pointed out quietly. His easy tone rolled over Lance’s concerns, “Why are we mind melded?” he inquired, casually.

 

Lance shrugged, “No idea.” He didn’t admit how comforting it was, to be able to feel Hunk’s life force. The life that was almost lost while he was in charge. Lance held Hunk’s arm closer, and whispered his confession.  “I made decisions that could have gotten you killed.” He wanted to be candid. Hunk should know that it was Lance’s fault he almost died.

 

Hunk’s slow breath in, conveyed his exasperation. “That's just a backwards way of saying you saved me, Lance.”    

 

“But-” Lance tried to argue, but Hunk covered his mouth.

 

“No. I know where this is coming from. It’s not the same, Lance.” Hunk was firm, but still whispered. 

 

He had hit home. The vague reference, was the closest anyone had come to confronting Lance about his trauma, in years. His mind recoiled from it. He didn’t want to come apart in a flood of self hate. He could already feel its acid nipping at his heels. 

 

Lance pulled the hand from his mouth, “I don’t know what you’re-” He stubbornly tried to deny, angry that Hunk would bring it up. 

 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Hunk retorted as loud as he dared. 

 

Lance knew, but even grazing the topic burned, and left welts on his mind. Hunk was right, he was comparing the situations, letting the mistakes of five years ago eat away at him. Lance had let his guilt, and fear, whisk him into the past while he was outside the engine room, he's lucky he didn't break down. The absence of Blue in his mind was glaring, especially with both Hunk, and Keith, bordering her empty place. Lance wanted his companion. He wanted to at least feel the pull of his Lion from a distance, but there was nothing. 

 

Keith’s warm hum welled up, it felt worried, but was also commiserating. Keith missed Red, he could feel Lance breaking down, while missing Blue, and tried to fill the empty space. It was comforting, and unnerving. Lance didn't want Keith to be saddled with his baggage just because of their bond. The idea of pushing this onto Keith, or any of the team, brought about new type of fear and self loathing, along with the understanding that he couldn’t continue broken like this. It all swelled from him, and left his mouth as words.

 

“It's been five years…”

 

Hunk stilled, he even held his breath. Lance was sure he was shocked, he probably didn't expect to get any sort of response. Lance had never willing talked about it before, ever. 

 

“Do you think I’ll ever get over it?” It was a deep fear. Something Lance had thought about almost every day. Now it was bigger, the bond he was forming with Keith, and possibly the team, made his issues dangerous for more than himself.

 

“No… at least, not until you accept that it wasn’t your fault. Lance you-”

 

The sound of shuffling feet killed the conversation, and sadly snuffed out Hunk’s hum. Their moment of perfect sync was broken, but Lance was a little relieved he didn't have to talk. He saw Shiro practically dragging Keith to a nearby corner, away from the others. 

 

Whispered voices skittered across the cold floor, just barely understandable. Hunk and Lance pretended to be asleep, with a mutual understanding that they didn't want to be disturbed… and maybe wanted to eavesdrop. Lance cracked an eyes open enough to see Keith's back, and Shrios concerned face. He strained to hear what they were saying, but only caught bits and pieces. 

 

Shiro didn’t look happy, and even from behind, Lance could tell Keith was on edge. The set of his shoulders spoke of how uncomfortable he felt, and the line of his back came off defensive.

 

“I know what you’re doing… I thought you were past… not acceptable.” Shiro’s hiss was sharp, and he tried to crossed his arms. It would have been funny if the tone wasn’t so serious.

 

“What are you-” Keith tried to question, his head tilted to one side. Lance could imagine the cute and confused look on his face.

 

“I know you,” Shiro whispered darkly. The words seemed to impact Keith, who took a small step back.

 

“What are you even…not anymore… Garrison.” Keith sounded small, and Lance hated it. What were they talking about?

 

Shiro gestured to Keith’s headband, and uttered something so quietly, Lance couldn’t hear any of it. But his face was stone cold. Keith took a half step forward as if he was going to interrupt, but Shiro’s voice rose at the end of his argument, overshadowing him,  “...He’s not one of your marks!” 

 

Keith shifted, and his entire body folded in. Lance was familiar with the closed stance, but he had never seen it directed at Shiro. Keith was defensive, and he didn’t bother whispering.  “Takashi, this is diff-” 

 

Shiro cut him off, using his height to bear down on Keith. “Just don't interfere,” he ordered, coldly. Then, he lowered his volume again, “the Alteans deserve… Allura…” Lance was frustrated, why couldn’t Shiro make it easier to eavesdrop?

 

Whatever he said caused Keith to unfurl, the tilt of his body became aggressive, and he still didn't bother to whisper. “Takashi, They’re not-” He began to argue, but Shiro wasn’t letting him get a word in.

 

“Don’t argue, Keith! Just let it go!”  He barked, and then stormed off before Keith could respond.

 

Lance was sure the others had heard Shiro yell, but they didn’t comment. Keith stood still, with his fists clenched at his side. His shoulders moved with his irate  breathing, and Lance could feel his fury through their bond. But underneath the fire, was a small ember of hurt, that burned through the layers of protection Keith had around his emotions. Lance could tell that Shiro had jabbed an open wound, and hurt Keith in a way only he could. 

 

“What was that about?” Hunk mumbled.

 

“No idea…” Lance breathed back, but he really wanted to know. 

 

“I’ve never heard anyone call Shiro by his given name before,” Hunk pondered.

 

Lance almost pointed out that it wasn’t surprising. Keith had known Shiro since they were kids, they were practically brothers. But Hunk didn’t know that, Lance remembered.  “Me either,” he agreed as if it was odd. 

 

A shadow fell over them, and Lance looked up. Allura was gliding down, and landed next to him with a soft click of her boots. Lance wondered what would happened once the gravity was completely gone. He let the more immediate concerns drown out any of his other worries and fears. His conversation with Hunk floated away. 

 

“Oh, good. You’re both awake,” Allura noted, with a soft smile directed at Hunk.

 

Lance sat up, and felt Hunk do the same. “How long was I out?”

 

Allura knelt down and held out two strange looking cans. They were silver, and wide, with a long nozzle and a button on the top. “Only about a  varga ,” she answered.

 

Hunk took his can and turned it over a few times, Lance felt him sigh, silently. He looked resigned. “This is for when the gravity is gone?” he asked, but it sounded like he already knew the answer. Everyone’s armor was locked in a case or in their lion, and not worth the resources it would take to get them.

 

“Yes,” Allura looked at her own can, and frowned. “Pidge is about to power this room up and heat it, but that's all we can do for now. When the gravity stops, use these air cans to move around.”

 

Lance understood. They still didn’t have any escape plan, they were just trying to buy time.  “Is that all?” He stilled hoped she would smile, and tell him they had a way out.

 

Allura didn’t smile, she just looked up from her can and answered. “Coran and I are going to the kitchens, before it gets too cold out there. We need provisions. I wanted to let you know, that you will be responsible for opening the doors with Pidge for air, until we get back.” 

 

Lance nodded, and his heart sank. They were stuck. Now that there was no pressing emergency, it felt real. They were just going to stay put and try to think of something.

 

Hunk leaned over Lance to interject, “I could go, if you or Coran need to stay.”

 

“No!” Lance and Allura retorted at the same time.

 

“You rest, Hunk. I have the maps, and Coran knows the kitchen,” she added, and patted his shoulder.

 

Allura glided away, her feet hardly needed to touch the floor. Hunk sighed, loudly this time, and he slowly ‘flopped’ back on the blanket. Lance looked down at him, and he looked back with furrowed brows. Lance knew that face. It was the ‘Hunk is putting something together’ face.

 

“Why did Allura leave you to open doors?” He questioned, his tone shifted as he figured it out. “The doors are lock… and you… can open them?” He sounded like he didn’t believe his own conclusion. 

 

Lance felt his face get hot, he rubbed the back of his neck, “Uuuh… yeah?” he mumbled. There was a swift moment of worry, like a camera shutter. Hunk wouldn’t care, right? 

 

“So... you’re Altean?” Hunk’s careful inflection didn’t indicate how he felt, but the rounded sides of his personality were flat, and pressed into Lance uncomfortably.

 

Lance shrugged, he still wasn't sure how he felt it about himself. “At least in part… don’t know how much,” He admitted, and watched Hunks face closely. 

 

“Enough for the Castle to recognize it,” Hunk stressed.

 

Lance looked at his lap, he felt like he was being blamed. It was silly, but he felt guilty. “Yup…” He quipped softly.

 

“Lance,” Hunk’s emphasis on his name, drew Lance’s eyes up. The name had always been a weapon from Hunks mouth, it could protect him, or destroy him. “How long did you know?” He asked.

 

“Not long!” Lance jumped to reassure, once he realized what Hunk was upset about. “I literally just found out during the blackout,” He elaborated.

 

Hunk brightened, and then looked to the side, ashamed. “Sorry…” He uttered, knowing Lance would understand, and he did. The matter was glossed over, and Hunk perked back up. “So, both you and Keith, huh? Maybe we’re all part alien?” He proposed, eyeing everyone skeptically. He narrowed his gaze on Pidge, “It would make a lot of sense for some of us.” 

 

Lance loved Hunk, he truly had a way of making a big thing seem small. He was the master of both acknowledging, and making light of a heavy topic. 

 

“You think Pidge is part alien?” Lance replied doubtfully, following Hunk's line of sight.

 

Hunk shrugged, his casual vibe putting Lance more at ease. “They are way too smart for a fourteen year old… or fifteen now?” He pondered.

 

Lance scoffed, and he felt the beginnings of a fun debate. He reveled in the distraction. “Oh, really? Then what kind of alien are they?” He smirked.

 

A new voice joined. “Olkari, obviously,” Keith sassed, as he floated down on Lance’s right, in a motion that would have been a heavy plop in normal gravity. He turned to Hunk, “Glad you’re OK.” He clasped Hunk’s shoulder, in a very rare display of physical contact, and it clearly expressed how worried Keith had been. 

 

Hunk seemed to understand the significance of the touch, and didn’t draw attention to it, “Thanks, man.” 

 

The moment passed, and Keith pulled his hand back.

 

Oh, boy. Lance had been so caught up with Hunk, he didn't feel Keith coming. Now he was here, very close, and Lance didn’t know how to act. He had only just realized his crush was more than a crush, and he didn’t know how to handle it. He wanted to act normal, but the emotion he now knew was love, burned so much hotter than before. It’s name gave it power, and it grew into a wild fire. Could Keith feel it? Lance mentally pulled at the red hum, he couldn’t feel Keith’s emotions right now, which was a good sign. It didn't seem to happen all the time, it was mostly just an awareness of the others presence. He side eyed Keith covertly, he seemed to be acting normal. Lance took a calming breath, everything was fine. 

 

“Nice headband,” Hunk pointed at the blue knit in Keith's hair. 

 

Lance wanted to die. Pride met crushing embarrassment, at the mention of his present to Keith. How was he going to function if he couldn’t even stay calm through a conversation involving Keith?

 

“Thanks, I like it,” Keith answered, but he wasn’t looking at Hunk or Lance. He was glaring, defiantly across the control room at Shiro, who was looking back with a stern expression. 

 

Lance glanced at Hunk, and they locked eyes in shared confusion.

 

“Heat is on!” Pidge hollered, and broke the tense moment. They bounded over to the blanket to join the group, leaving Shiro alone across the room. 

 

Lance felt the air warm, and smiled at Pidge. “Nice work,” the praise slid out naturally. 

 

Pidge smirked, satisfied. But it turned to a frown as they faced Hunk. Pidge hugged him without warning, practically climbing onto his shoulders. Hunk took it in stride, and they had a short, whispered conversation. Lance looked down at his lap when Pidge pulled back, and dried their face. As if nothing happen, they sat on Lance’s left, closing the circle, “What are you guys talking about?” They peered around the group.

 

“What kinda alien you would be... you know, if you were like Keith…” Hunk replied, then peeked at Lance for confirmation, which he received, “or Lance,” He finished.

 

“Olkari, obviously,” Pidge answered without hesitation. “And Hunk would be  Balmeran,” they asserted.

 

Hunk puffed up with pride, and no one protested. “What about Shiro?” He tossed out casually. 

 

“ Arusian,” Keith snorted, and laughed.

 

Lance muffled his chuckle with his hand, and Hunk put his fist in his mouth. Pidge didn’t bother hiding their amusement, and laugh along with Keith. Shiro didn’t comment, or even look at Keith from across the room. He had his arms crossed -his human one holding his galra one- closed off from the team. 

 

Hunk pulled his fist from his mouth, “Maybe Bloodsplotion?! Remember them Lance?” He didn’t wait for a response, and called out, “Can you make your blood explode, Shiro?”

 

“No, and I would be one of those warrior guys we helped relocate when their planet was blown up,” Shiro answered, as if he had thought about this before. He relaxed marginally, and let go of his limp arm. “We should be planning a way out of this dead space, not talking about what alien we are,” he sounded tired, and closed the distance between them.

 

“We need to rest, and eat,” Keith was kurt, and didn’t look at Shiro.

 

Shiro didn’t acknowledge him either, and shifted his focus to Hunk, “It's good to see you up.” He smiled, and transformed into the old Shrio, before he was captured a second time. reassuring, and positive. But the smile was only a cover, threadbare, and frayed. 

 

“I’m glad to be up!” Hunk announced. He raised his arms in a mock flex, overcompensating with false confidence. He slowly lowered his arms when he got no response.

 

The empty exchange left the atmosphere heavy, and sad. Lance wanted to make a joke, even at his own expense, if only to lighten the mood, but knew any humor he attempted would be just as empty.

 

Beautiful, innocent, Hunk, on the other hand, refused to let the silence win.  “Allura and Coran have been gone a while,” He commented.

 

“I’m sure they're fine,” Lance waved his hand lazily, as he tried his best to come off unconcerned and not uncomfortable. He was very uncomfortable, but didn't want to leave his buddy hanging. 

 

Shiro leveled Lance with a glare, his face was tight, “Shouldn’t  _ you  _ be more worried about the Princess?” He sounded indignant, and even a little self-righteous. He was so far from the Shrio that Lance knew, it made him want to cringe away. But he grabbed onto his new found confidence -what little of it there was- and stood his ground. Everyone in the room stayed mercifully silent.

 

Lance pulled his beaten, but still whole, facade to the front. He had cultivated it all his life to hide behind, now he would use it to brace himself. “No?” He both answered and questioned Shiro, with a flippant smile. “Allura’s a strong, independent lady, she can handle herself,” Lance articulated his reasoning with an apparent abundance of confidence.

Shiro looked torn between agreeing with Lance, and arguing with him. He sighed, it was silent, but ended with resigned shoulders, and a shamed face.

 

Lance had wanted to have this conversation in private, but with the current circumstances, it didn't seem like it could wait. He wasn’t sure when he would get another chance without Allura in the room. Lance took a good look at Shiro’s tired eyes, and worn down stance, and regretted ever thinking it was a good idea to trick him. Lance had to own up to his mistake, and not cower behind a lie. He had people that believe he was better than that now, and he wanted to live up to their expectations, but also give Shiro a break. Lance could relate to being at the end of your rope, and Shiro looked like he was dangling by his fingertips.   

 

“Shiro, listen I-”

 

“Lance-”

 

They both pulled up short when their words clashed. 

 

Shiro took a slow breath, and Lance chuckled nervously before trying again.

 

“I need to tell you-” 

 

“I need to apologize!” Shiro blurted.

 

Lance tried to interrupt, determined to admit his fault. But Shiro spoke over him, with an earnest tone that caught the breath of Lance’s words in his chest. 

 

“I was being petty, and bitter,” he admitted. “I have to accept, that I can’t make people do what I want. I can only act on the truth, accordingly. My own actions, and my treatment of others is all I control…” Shiro trailed off for a moment, aware that he was rambling, “What I’m trying to say, is I haven’t been fair to you, I’m sorry.” 

 

Lance had lived with an acute awareness, of how useless he truly was, for a long time. He sweat the knowledge through his skin, and it had invaded every pore of his body. Now, he had pushed that feeling onto a Shiro, a man he admired, and looked up too, and Shiro was apologizing to him. Ironically echoing words that Lance had been told years ago, when he was struggling with his own impact on the people around him.

 

Ooo

 

Lance was grounded… very grounded. He wiped at his angry tears, and stared down at his space themed bread spread. His  mamá was just as angry about the suspension as he had predicted. Lance refusing to tell her why he had punched  Anton in the face, didn't help his case. Maritza spent the entire conversation making a  _ ‘tell her’ _ face at him, but the thought of his  mamá being mad at him for it… he just couldn’t.

 

“Manito, look what I brought!” Maritza cracked Lance’s bedroom door open, and peeked through. She held up a bottle of bright orange nail polish. It was his favorite. She slipped into the room, and climbed onto the bed, without waiting for his response. She threw her arms around Lance in a crushing hug, letting her full weight fall on him, as he toppled over.

 

“Ritza! You’re crushing me, get off!” Lance complained, as he tried to hold onto his bitter mood. He was failing. The only good part of getting in trouble was when his sister came to check on him, she never failed to make him feel loved.

 

“But, I love you, my beautiful baby brother!” She announced dramatically, and squeezed him tighter.

 

“I love you too, now get off!” Lance gasped, and struggled against her. She was still stronger than him, and taller, so his efforts were futile. 

 

Maritza smirked, “Only if you cheer up,” She demanded. 

 

Lance went limp, and he resigned himself to his fate, death by sister hug. He ran his finger along saturn's rings, the old comforter was pilled and faded. “I can’t, Anton hates me,  mamás mad at me, and I’m…” He let the rest hang, he knew she understood.

 

Maritza had mercy, and stopped squeezing. She sagged on top of him, “your day was crap, let me paint your nails.”

 

The offer did help lift Lance’s spirits, just a bit. He smiled, “Yeah, OK.”

 

Maritza sat up, and shook the nail polish while Lance got into position. He held out his right hand. When his sister started on the first finger he already felt more relaxed, and reveled in be pampered.

Without looking up from her work, Maritza started prodding for information. “Lance, I understand why you hit Anton, but I don’t get is why hitting him, was your go to response.”

 

Lance should have expected the question. He plucked at the pilled bedspread with his left hand, trying to collect his thoughts. “I was frustrated, I guess…” He confessed.

 

Maritza dipped the brush in the bottle, “So, it wasn’t because he was mean to you?”

 

Lance shook his head. Anton hadn’t been mean at all, he had been trying to be supportive, which only made Lance feel worse about what he had done.

 

“Good, now I don’t have to give him a beat down,” Maritza huffed, and squinted at Lance’s pinky nail. “Why did you hit him, if he wasn’t mean?” She asked.

 

Lance blushed, all the way to the tips of his ears. Only for Maritza would he talk about these things. He only felt this safe with her. “It was when I told him I liked him… he… doesn’t feel the same. He still wanted to be friends, but I was mad and told him I didn’t… we got in a fight.” Lance stumbled through the story, ashamed.

 

“Do you really not want to be friends with him anymore?” Maritza always seemed to know the right questions to ask.

 

Regret joined the shame, and tears welled up in Lance’s eyes, “No…” 

 

Maritza beckoned for Lance’s left hand, “Lance, we can’t make people do what we want. We can only tell them how we feel, and what we know. In the same vein, we can only act on what others are willing to give us. We have to be careful with what we do and say.” She dipped the brush in the polish, and Lance watched his bright sister dim, “Sometimes, you give the wrong person too much. Other times people lie to you, but you can only make choices with the information you have.” Maritza smiled, bitterly. It was the first time her smiled didn’t match her face. She shook the strange mood off, and smiled more like herself. 

 

Lance never forgot his sister's face when she gave him that advice, and her words impacted the rest of his life.

 

Ooo

 

Lance looked up at Shiro, even more determined to explain himself.   “You don’t understand-” 

 

Shiro was apparently determined as well, and cut Lance off again. “But I do! You’re funny, and nice, there's no reason she wouldn't see that, and with you being Altean too… It just makes sense. She would want to continue the race-”

 

“SHIRO!” Lance bellowed. He was red faced from the implication that Allura would want to _breed_ more Alteans with him. The snickering of his so called friends was not helping. He absolutely done with being interrupted.

 

Shiro was wide eyes, and actually took a step back. Lance would have laughed if he wasn’t so ramped up and irritated. He got to his feet, faced Shrio, and spoke purposefully, searching for the right words.

 

“While I’m… flattered, that you… approve of me. Allura and I are  _ not _ together.” Lance didn't waver, and a long moment dragged by. 

 

Shiro blinked, and then tried to argue. “But, you two… she looked so happy, and-”

 

Lance interrupted, he still need to apologize, and he could feel himself losing his nerve. “I know how it looked, but it's true. Allura and me, we came to an understanding as friends… and I might have let you think we were together... becauseyoulikeherandIwantedyoutoadmitit…Sorry.”

 

The silence was thick. Hunk and Pidge’s snickering stopped abruptly. Shiro had every right to be mad, to yell, or throw a fit, but he was still as stone. It was the only indication that he understood Lance’s rushed confession, because he wasn’t even looking at Lance. His sight was set on Keith, with a stricken expression. Shiro looked sick, and even more ashamed than he did before confronting Lance. Keith was staring back with no emotion, cold eyes, and a grim line of a mouth.

 

Shiro slowly slid his gaze from Keith, to Lance, and stared at him for a tick longer than was comfortable. Then, with the presence of a man on the edge of a cliff, he spoke.  “It’s OK, we… all make mistakes,” He said softly, and his eyes trailed back to Keith, pleading.

 

The swoosh of a door, and a burst of frigid air, announced Allura and Corans return. Shiro turned to greet them as if nothing had happened, and helped them unload bags of frosted over food goo.

 

Lance wanted to yell ‘that's it?!’ to Shiro’s retreating back. He deserved punishment for what he had done, for the distress he caused, but he got off with nothing. A large hand landed lightly on Lance’s shoulder, “We all kept it from him, Lance. It’s not just your fault,” Hunk assured him. Pidge and Keith spoke up in agreement, and it helped dull the sharp edge of guilt in Lance’s heart. He joined the team for a silent meal.

 

What was left of Lance’s guilt couldn’t distract him from the obvious fall out between Keith and Shiro. It was now apparent that the mess he made with Allura was somehow related, but how? It seemed like Shiro might have been worried that Keith was going to interfere with Allura’s supposed relationship… The thought rolled around in Lance’s head unpleasantly, there was only one conclusion that made sense… Keith was interested in Allura, and Shiro knew… Lance’s reaction was visceral. Ugly jealousy rolled in his stomach, and his mouth filled with its acrid taste. 

 

Keith and Allura together felt wrong, but it wasn’t so far fetched. There was the time they ran away together, and it was a better explanation for Keith’s mood swing that morning when Allura wore the sweater. But it didn’t explain everything, and Lance could hold his heart together with that fact. What Shiro meant by ‘mark’, or what he had said that upset Keith so much, was still a mystery.

 

Falling without motion, it was so sudden, Lance was unable to orient himself. He flailed and twisted, on the spot, until he calmed his mind’s instincts. The gravity was completely gone. Lance hung motionless, and watched as his team found their center. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out his air can.

 

“This is it…” Keith announced, no one responded. He said it to make sure it was real, and Lance would have if he hadn’t.

 

Lance tried out the compressed air, and found it much easier to control his momentum than expected. Everyone else was adjusting as well. Coran was surprisingly good at this, and Lance suspected he had practice in zero gravity before.

 

“Paladins,” Allura called for their attention. She attempted, and failed, to look dignified, floating without any sort of perch. She put on a brave face and laid out the facts, “We have food, heat and air, until Pidge’s batteries run out. We should use this time to try and plan an escape. Let's not lose hope.”

 

Lance wanted to take her words to heart, but hope was far away, floating outside his reach. He could pretend that things would be OK when his feet were on the ground. Now, hope felt as useful as his panicked twisting had been. 

 

Pidge and Hunk propelled themselves to the control room main panel, and Pidge began to explain the set up. Allura, Shiro, and Coran grouped up, and a whispered conversation of unlikely plans was struck up. 

 

Lance hung limp, and useless. He fought against the burning fear that threatened his lungs, he felt more like he was under a sea of anxiety than ever before, floating as he was. He was tempted to give in, and let the dark corners of his mind take hold. He could so easily regress to the days of staring in the mirror and cold tiled floors. His body would dissolve in his hate and pity, and when it was over, he wouldn’t feel anything.

 

The hiss of an air can caught Lance’s ear, and he turned just as Keith careened into him. They collided with a hearty smack, and Lance yelped. Tangled together, Keith and Lance flew by Pidge and Hunk, and impacted the far wall, bouncing off with a bang.

 

“WHAT THE HELL, KEITH?!” Lance screamed, outraged, and gripped Keith’s red jacket to keep them from being torn apart by the momentum. 

 

Keith’s back was to the room, and he smirked so only Lance could see. “Sorry, I guess I’m not very good at using these cans,” He explained, not sounding the least bit apologetic. His smirk softened, and he pulled Lance close under the pretence of preparing to propel himself away, their faces only inches apart. Lance’s entire body lit up, and fire dance over his skin, burning away his darkness. It felt so good having Keith close, and no amount of impending doom could ruin it. For one crazy second Lance was going to kiss him, but Keith moved, and was cheek to cheek with Lance instead.

 

“Stay strong, Ace,” Keith whispered, and then pushed away, flying back across the room. Lance was thrown in the opposite direction and hit the wall again, but he was to surprised, and happy to care. He felt Keith’s hum, strong and supportive.

 

“Lance, we could use you in this conversation, my boy!” Coran called out. Allura and Shiro looked to him expectantly. Lance grabbed his can from his coat pocket and joined them with renewed spirit.

 

Ooo

 

It wasn’t giving up, if no one said it out loud. The flow of ideas, and suggestions trickled to a stop hours ago. Everyone floated around in silence, each of them racking their brains for some sort of idea. It wasn’t the end, until someone broke. Regret is the most relevant emotion for the dying, it would be regret that signaled the end. Lance wasn’t sure how much time they had left on the batteries, but from Pidge’s expression, it probably wasn’t much. He glanced around the room quickly. Keith was clear on the other side, not looking at Shiro or Lance. Shiro had his eyes closed, most likely still trying to plan an escape. Everyone else was dotted around the room, staring at the walls, floor and ceiling. Lance turned back to his own wall.

The previous air of disassociation was beginning to shift. The distance from their likely deaths was closing, and Lance was starting to feel it in his chest. Tight, suffocating fear, clawed its way out of his heart, and pressed at his throat, he swallowed it. He was more afraid of his friends dying than himself, and the feeling dominated any other that might have tried to take hold. He didn’t want to see the light in their eyes fade, as his own life ended... Lance tried to ignore it, but it was difficult, surrounded on all sides by the image of the endless vacuum of space. He pondered how the walls of the room could show the outside, and came up blank. Then he wondered how much power it was wasting, he was sure Pidge would have turned it off if they could.

 

The stars were tiny specks, dust on a black surface. Lance wanted to run his hand across it and wipe them away. Only one star stood out bright, it was probably Yeppeuda. Lance snorted, it was almost funny how close they are to salvation, only to die reaching out, and falling just short. A legitimate laugh tried to surface, born from hysteria, and a dark coping mechanism deep in the human psyche.

 

Then it happened, the end was signaled. The hiss of an air can drew everyone's attention. Shiro glided across the room to Allura. He came to a gentile stop by her side and tucked his air can into his belt. She looked up at him with wondering eyes, and he looked back with solid certainty. 

 

Confused, Allura began to question him, “Shiro? Do you have a pl-”

 

Shiro cut her off. He cupped her face with his hand, softly, and kissed her. 

 

There were no hoots or hollers from the team, only understanding. Allura cried, her eyes slid closed and pushed her resigned tears down her cheeks. She kissed Shiro back.

 

Regret, nobody wanted to die with it. 

 

Lance heard a hiss of air only a moment before a small body collided with his. Pidge’s thin arms wrapped around his middle, and they pressed their face into his chest.

 

Words poured from their mouth, half strangled by tears. “I always thought of you like -sob- a brother, and I was so happy to see you- you- accept yourself. It helped me -sob- feel better about- who- who I… am.”

 

Lance’s heart stuttered. He was crying before he knew why. He hugged Pidge back, and pressed his face into their hair. He felt a small fracture in who he was, mend back together. “I feel the same, Pidge.” 

 

The dam was broken. Thoughts and feelings began pouring. Hunk flew across the room, and engulfed Lance and Pidge together, sobbing. Shiro turned to Keith, imploringly. Coran embraced Allura. Everyone swapped and hugged. 

 

_ “You are a wonderful paladin, and friend, Lance, never doubt that .” _

 

_ “BRO! I love you so much!” _

 

_ “Meeting you, was one of the few good things I got to experience after waking up, thank you, my boy.” _

 

_ “You should be proud of yourself, Lance.” _

 

Eventually Lance was alone, a lull between teammates hugging, loving, and confessing. Across the room, Keith was also alone. Their eyes met, and Keith tipped his head, questioning. It was Lance’s greatest weakness, and he couldn't hold out. He was in tatters, and every frayed end of his his heart was reaching for Keith. 

 

Now was the time.

 

They moved in unison, kicking off the wall to glide towards each other. Their finders tips were inches apart, straining. 

 

An abrupt, ear splitting, metallic screech, rent through the air. The Castle jerked violently, and Lance’s fingers slide by Keith’s, as they crashed into each other, forced together by the momentum.

 

“What is THAT!” Pidge shouted over the sound of metal on metal, and they point off to the side of the control room.

 

Lance tried to twist around, still tangled with Keith and hurtling through the air. With a thump, they hit the wall and bounced back. When they float to a halt, Lance could see what Pidge was yelling about. To the starboard side of the ship, was something large, brown, and covered in something white. The object -a parody of a spaceship- was mechanical, and about one third the size of the Castle. Under the white substance, were a plethora of small moving parts, all ticking, and shifting together. Between the moving parts was something like vents, a lot of vents. Lance was hesitant to say it was shaped like an airship, but that was the closest description he could think of. From each side of the of the ship, large heavy chains extended towards the Castle, and attached someplace out of sight. That must of been what caused the loud metallic sound.

 

The airship’s outer parts began to move faster, and white gas was spewed from a majority of the vents covering the outside. The gas sparkled in the limited light, and Lance realized that it was steam, being flash frozen in the cold of space. The foreign craft began to move, and the chains connecting the two ships were pulled taut… They were being towed. 

 

The sudden, and loud sound of everyone talking at once rippled through the room. Pidge and Hunk were the contenders for fastest and loudest of all. Lance and Keith stayed silent, watching the new ship’s parts whirl as it pulled them along, the din of conversation passing over them.

 

_ “We’re saved!” _

 

_ “Do you think they’re from Yeppeuda?!” _

 

_ “How can life survive in dead space?” _

 

_ “Earth does just fine without quintessence for power!” _

 

_ “Is that a STEAMPUNK spaceship?!” _

 

_ “They must have adapted when the dead space formed around their planet.” _

 

_ “STEAMPUNK SPACESHIP!!... oh no, what if their PIRATES!?” _

 

Everything was plunged into absolute darkness, and the view of the ship was lost as the screens went down. The conversation stalled.

 

“The batteries gave out,” Pidge observed, and that was everyone's cue to start talking again.

 

Lance threw in a comment from time to time, but mostly kept to himself. He was having trouble comprehending that they were saved. Hopefully not being towed into enemy territory, but they honestly couldn’t do anything but wait. He wanted to cry, and scream, his emotions were warring for dominance, tangled up with so many questions, worries, but also relief. 

 

Fiery red, slid through the back of Lance’s mind, a moment before actual heat slid up his chest. A hand moved slowly from his bellybutton to his collarbone, and then gripped his shirt. Lance was pulled flush against another body, and he had no doubt about who it was. He had been desperate for physical comfort, and knew Keith felt the same. The intention thrummed in his head, and Lance felt bold, with a new lease on life.

 

Ecstatic, pleasure arched over Lance’s skin, he cracked, and pealed under its heat. Willingly, Lance unraveled. He came apart in a fit of euphoric insanity, because they were going to live. The fabric of his self control was sodden with his uncontrollable joy, heavy and cumbersome, he let it slide away. 

 

Lance wanted to be closer, he hooked his legs around Keith's, and wrapped his arms around Keith’s chest, holding them together as they drifted through the dark. Keith’s breath hitched, and Lance almost apologized, he was prepared to backpedal, but then Keith moaned. 

 

“Ace,” Small, almost silent, it grazed Lance’s skin, and shimmied down his spine.  He felt a hand cup his cheek, and warm breath ghost across his lips. All the reasons that held Lance back shattered, except one.

 

It slipped from his mouth, a hushed murmur, “I thought you were str-” 

 

Keith was kissing him. Lighting struck where their lips met, and Lance pressed back. His thoughts scattered, and he dimly registered when Keith broke the kiss briefly to mutter a single phrase.

 

_ “You thought wrong.” _

 

Ooo

 

End Part 3

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon (after the season 3 hype dies a bit)
> 
>  
> 
> Part 4- All or Nothing
> 
>  
> 
> Things the final chapter will cover...
> 
>  
> 
> Where is the steampunk ship taking them?
> 
> Whats up with Keith past?
> 
> What did Shiro say to Keith?
> 
> What traumatized Lance?
> 
> How the hell is Lance part Altean?
> 
> How will a relationship work between Lance and Keith?
> 
> Will the team ever really find out about them?
> 
> Will Lance overcome his anxiety?
> 
> And more!
> 
>  
> 
> Seriously, if you lovely readers think of more questions you want answered, let me know.
> 
>  
> 
> I was also thinking of writing more stories in the universe, let me know if you guys would want to read them!


	4. All or Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team is surprised by what they find. Keith and Lance get some alone time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY!
> 
> I am the worst... I'm sure some of you have noticed that the amount of chapters planned for this story have gone up. I was originally planning for this installment to be the last one... BUT, when I broke 30 pages, I realized it was going to be way too long. So, now I have an important question for you all.
> 
> Do you want more chapters about the size of this one, with possibly faster updates (no promises), OR do you want part 5 to be the last? It will be very long, and will take longer for me to finish (its already started).
> 
> Please let me know!
> 
> I'm not super happy with my writing in this chapter, but I wanted you all to have your update despite my discomfort. So I'm also sorry if it kinda sucks. Please point out any errors I missed.

 

 

**Part 4- All or Nothing**

  
  


Lance had once read, that it only takes 48 hours in complete darkness to induce insanity. Now he was wondering if anyone had ever actually tested that theory, because after only an hour -atleast he thought it was an hour- he was ready to rip out his own hair. A constricting heat plagued his lungs, and each breath helped less than the last. Lance couldn’t figure out if it was anxiety, or the air thinning, which only stressed him out more. 

 

A warm, firm body, curled against his side, was the only thing that kept him together. After the unknown spacecraft had begun to tow the Castle, no one anticipated how slow the process would be. The excited chatter from the first encounter had trailed off, and everyone floated in muted darkness. 

 

If Lance was being honest, it wasn't the silence, or the dark, that was driving him up a wall (literally at this point). It was Keith. Specifically, the fact that Lance wanted talk to him about the hot kissing that had occurred. A pin drop could be heard in the control room, and Lance wasn’t willing to announce his private business for the rest of the team to hear. 

 

AND, why didn’t Keith tell him earlier that he wasn’t straight?! It would have saved them both a lot of trouble, and pining, at least for one of them… what an asshole. Lance fumed, and hugged Keith tighter to his chest. Stupid, beautiful, asshole. He pressed his face into Keith's smooth hair, and was rewarded with a nuzzle against his neck. A little speck of red was forming in Lance’s heart, and it burrowed deeper, the same as the hum in his mind.

 

A hot, wet, open mouthed kiss, pulled a surprised squeak from Lance. Soft heat curled up from his toes, and then Keith bit down where he’d kissed. Sharp pleasure speared downward. Lance held his moan in the best he could with his hand over his mouth.

 

“Everything OK over there?” Shiro called, with an edge of worry.

 

“YUP!” Lance hollered back, high pitched and strained, “Just bumped into a wall…” he covered, and it sounded lame, even to himself. 

 

Keith pressed his face into Lance’s neck to cover his snort. 

 

Lance would get his revenge. Maybe after his stomach stopped flipping. Excitement and anxious joy vibrated through him, and he wasn’t sure he would ever calm down. The implications of Keith kissing him were heavy, Lance felt weighed down by all the possible outcomes… or was he actually being weighed down? 

 

“I think we’re entering a planet's atmosphere!” Pidge yelled. The entire Castleship began to shake, and the cold of space was replaced by heat.

 

Keith pushed away from Lance, and they floated a few feet apart, just in time for gravity to yanked them down. Lance’s stomach dropped out, and he screamed involuntarily. Various thumps and yelps echoed through the dark, as all of team Voltron met the ground, hard. In only a few minutes the control room was almost unbearably hot. 

 

“Brace yourselves!” Shiro called out, over the violent rumble of the castle cutting through the stratosphere. 

 

Lance scrambled around for anything to grab onto. The floor vibrated through to his bones, and hurt his teeth. The Castle couldn’t take much more of this, it wasn’t made to land without its barrier. Hunk was yelling something, and all Lance could hear were the words “shaking” and “apart”. He spread out his arms and legs, becoming as flat as possible. A warm hand brush his fingers, and he grabbed it. Lance didn't know whose hand it was, but the person squeezed back. He began to count, focusing on keeping track of the time to distract himself from his fear, and Hunks continuous scream. At one minute and fifty five seconds they began to decelerate, and the rumbling stopped, punctuated by the sound of Hunk vomiting.

 

Lance had to admit, he also felt like being sick, but he held it down. Only twenty seconds later the ship came to an abrupt, and jolting stop.

 

“We need to hide!” Allura shouted.

 

Nobody questioned her. Without any idea of what they were about to encounter, hiding was a sound plan. Lance grasped the hand he held tightly, and crawled until he met something solid. Keith buzzed in his mind, confused and reaching. The hand gripped so hard it almost hurt.  _ ‘It’s me, it’s me it’s me,’  _ Lance pushed the thought out, and Keith’s frantic emotions mellowed. The hand loosened, confirming who it belonged to.

 

Lance pulled Keith close, and together they shimmied around a curved surface. They slipped behind what Lance recognized, by touch, as the stack of batteries Pidge had strapped down near the main control panel. Keith pressed into his side, and wrapped a comforting arm around his chest. Lance could smell Keith’s hair, and tipped his head down, meeting the smooth strands just below his chin. 

 

Now they waited, in a oppressive and thick silence.

 

This moment would be everything Lance wanted, if they weren’t hiding in the dark from potential space pirates. The pulse of his heart, that ran down his limbs, was unfortunately a product of their tense situation, rather than the attractive man in his arms. But if he was going to hide from ruthless killers with anyone, Lance was glad it was Keith.

 

The still air rippled with a screech of tearing metal, and grinding similar to a power saw. It was muffled by distance, and many walls. The noise started and stopped, each time getting closer. Then, mumbled voices could be heard.

 

“This should be the control room, I think.” Lance heard a low gravelly voice, barely distinguishable.

Keith pressed closer to Lance, as if he could protect him from the coming danger. The metal grinding, and scream of power tools picked back up. This time, the room was strobed in orange light. Lance nudged Keith, and they leaned to the side, peeking around the batteries. Bright sparks rained to the floor, bouncing and spreading. A beam of light began to form where a jagged saw blade punctured the control room door. 

 

Lance squinted through the painful light, looking for his team. They we all hidden as best as they could be with their limited choices. He could see Shiro and Allura peering around the many open draws and cupboards on the other side of the room. He also spied Hunk and Coran under one of the red blankets in the corner. 

 

Lance frantically looked for Pidge. As the pillar of light grew and crept across the ground, he followed it with his eyes, and found his missing teammate. They were limp in the middle of the floor, glasses skewed, and bleeding. Lance began to move, his reflex was to go to Pidge and pulled them out of sight. But Keith held him back with the arm around his chest. Lance’s muscles coiled, prepared to rip himself away, but the main door fell in with a crash. The orange light of the sparks was washed out by bright yellow, that flooded from the newly cut hole.

 

Three large silhouettes were framed in the doorway. One of them dropped a large saw. It clattered to the floor. 

 

Lance wanted to snap at Keith. They couldn’t leave Pidge there, so exposed! Wasn’t the Red paladin supposed to be the impulsive one? Keith’s hand curled into Lance’s shirt, and the fist pressed into his chest. Keith was shaking, barely restrained, and Lance realized that this was hard for all of them. Shiro was looking in their direction from the far side of the room, and was slowly shaking his head. A signal to wait.

 

The three figures entered the room. The dark shroud lifted as they walked farther from the door. They were big, and looked surprisingly human. If Lance were judging by human physicality, he would say they were male. What made them different, was their skin, and hair. They were each a different color. The tallest was dark purple, with matching shaggy hair, the thinnest was hot pink with short, light green hair, and the smallest one was forest green with black hair in a bun. Lance caught a glimpse of the pink ones eyes, they were brown, but the pupil was square like a goats.

 

Even the smallest of the three, was over six feet, with muscle on a broad body, and topped with glaring eyes. Lance took in their mismatched clothes, as if someone put together many different partial shirts and pants to make one set. The patchwork didn’t hide the weapons that were clearly visible. Lance counted five in total, two old swords, and three macgyver looking, earth like guns. The smallest had both swords, the pink one had two pistols, and the largest had a big gun with a wide ended barrel, similar to a blunderbuss.

 

The pink one noticed Pidge first. “Hey, I think we got a  quincy ,” He called to his companions, and came to a stop directly above Pidge. The other two joined him.

 

“Is ‘et dead?” The large one asked, unconcerned. 

 

“Not sure,” The pink one nudged Pidge with his boot. 

 

Pidge didn't stir. Lance wasn’t sure if they were playing dead, or still knocked out. Cold fear squeezed his heart, and slowed his thoughts. He tried to smother it, and focus. He needed to find the perfect opening to act.

 

The smallest alien shoved the pink one, “Then make sure, idiot.” He complained.

 

“Fine, fine,” The pink alien drew a sword from the smallest ones belt, and raised it above Pidge.

 

Lance had hardly registered what was about to happen, and Keith was already gone. He flung himself over the stack of batteries, and charged. In the time it took for the three aliens to turn in surprise, Keith was on them. He jumped, and gracefully kicked the pink one in the face, the sword clattered on the ground. Kaith landed on the ball of his right foot, already twisting to punch the big one in the face, interrupting his attempt to swing the blunderbuss around from his back. Keith followed the motion of his punch, ducked low, and scooped up the sword. He turned as he stood, swooping over the pink enemy, still flat on his back, and pulled one of the pistols from its holster. It all happened in a beautiful, seamless, swirling movement. 

 

“ACE!” Keith yelled, and threw the pistol, before he spun low to the ground, sweeping the big ones legs, then he rose up to block the small ones sword slash. 

 

It only took a tick for Lance’s mind to catch up, all his training with Keith kicked in. muscle memory was a hell of a thing. He vaulted himself over the pile of batteries, caught the gun mid air, and fired a shot before his feet touched the ground. His aim was true, and his shot pierced the arm of the pink guy, who had recovered enough to aim his second gun at Keith.

 

Pink collapsed, curled around his injured arm. Keith was engaged in a sword fight with the small one, so Lance shot the big one in the leg as he tried to pull himself up, and then without a pause, he shot the small one's sword from his hand. Three sharp, and accurate movements, in less than two ticks.

 

Keith lunged forward when his opponent's weapon twirled away, and pressed his sword to the alien's neck, ending the fight. 

 

“I give up!” The pink guy pleaded, with both hands up.

 

It was over in a matter of seconds. Shiro had only made it halfway across the room, with Allura close behind. They both stood, slack jawed. Hunk and Coran were half covered with the blanket, as if they started to get up and stopped, and wide eyed.

 

Lance didn't notice his team staring, his focus was on Pidge. He handed his gun to Keith, who kept it trained on the enemies. Lance dropped to the ground and rolled Pidge onto their back. Their face was streaked with blood, a cut on their forehead continued to slowly bleed. He didn’t panic. Instead, a deep dent his heart ached with fear, worn in from overuse. His hand shook as he carefully pressed his fingers to Pidge’s neck. A light pulse pressed back, and Lance sagged. Fear loosened its grip, and he took a deep breath, “Pidge is alive.”

 

The announcement reanimated the team. They all gathered around Pidge, and their new captives. The three native’s were huddled together, nursing their wounds, watching only Keith and the gun in his hand.

 

Shiro knelt across from Lance. With a gentle touch, he smoothed back the bloody hair plastered to Pidge’s forehead, revealing the gash. Coran scurried over with a white metal case, and placed it on the ground. With a click, it popped open, and he began to gather basic first aid supplies. Lance watched, cradling the little bit of fear still plaguing his heart, as Coran started to clean the wound.

 

“We was only jokin’ ‘bout killin’ the little  quincy, I mean it, bub! !” A low gravelly voice claimed, followed by a nervous laugh.

 

Cold fury swept over Lance’s heart, and it hardened with ice. He was angrier than he had ever been. He had seen it clearly, the intent to kill, no amount of back peddling would change that. Lance passed Pidge into Shiro's good arm, stood, and slowly turned. Keith was at his side, and silently handed over the second pistol. Together they approached the three cowering, unarmed combatants. Keith kept both a gun and sword leveled on them. 

 

With an unwavering, frosty glare, and a steady hand, Lance placed the gun between the pink ones eyes. 

 

“Lance?” Keith questioned, a nervous waver in his voice.

 

Lance ignore the call, and stared directly into the alien’s square pupils. He could feel how cold and hard his own eyes were, and saw the fear he inflicted. It was time for some else to be afraid. Lance wanted to be the tidal wave of events out of  _ their  _ control, he wanted to see  _ them  _ panic. He wasn't going to just fight against the current anymore. 

 

Lance pressed the barrel of the gun harder against the pink skin, and was satisfied when the alien flinched. “What planet are we on?” he demanded, with no inflection.

 

“We’re on…  Ye- Ye- Yeppeuda, in  Yeppeo fi- five…” The Pink one stuttered, his eyes crossed, looking at the gun pressed to his head.

 

A curl of sick pleasure rolled in Lance’s chest, and he ignored the frantic clawing of his morality, threatening to rise up. He was in control, and he was going to get the information they needed.

 

Lance leaned a little closer, hovering over the kneeling captives. “Good, now tell me why you took our ship here,”  he commanded. 

 

The big purple one spoke out of turn, pleading with the tone of his answer. “We're scrappahs! et’s what we do! We haul in quincy ships that drift in the dead space. We din’t know anyone was alive, we waited unt-” He stopped abruptly, realizing his mistake.

 

Lance turned his gun on the big one, and pressed it under his chin. The pink alien whispered louder at the sight of his companion under the barrel.

 

Lance spoke in a barely contained yell, “You  **waited** ?! You watched us until you thought everyone was dead, before towing the ship here!?” He pressed the pistol into the alien's neck, hard, and the alien only choked in response, “AND what the FUCK is a quincy!?” Lance barked, overwhelmed by frustration and disgust. He wanted to kill them, and it made him so cold that it burned.

 

“Lance!” Keith snapped, but the hand he placed on Lance’s shoulder was gentile. It coincided with the swell of red, buzzing, warmth that washed over Lance’s mind, thawing his fury. He melted, letting his shoulders sag, we was so tired.

 

The gun pulled back, and the purple alien gasped for a breath. He answered in a raspy, sore voice. “Quincy’s are quintessence use’ahs, ‘ets what we call ‘em,” he coughed, and rubbed his neck. “I’mma need som’ Rira’s Song after dis,” he muttered to himself.

 

Keith slowly pulled Lance away by his shoulder, but didn't try and take the gun. Lance looked at him, and saw fiery anger, but it was barred behind worry. Keith pressed him into someone's arms, and Lance was enveloped in a hug, it was Hunk. 

 

No one commented on Keith’s handling of Lance, or the soft touch on the shoulder, that very unusual for him. If they thought it was odd, they kept it to themselves, and quietly watched Keith take over the interrogation. Allura stepped forward with him to create a united force. 

 

Shiro was still cradling Pidge in his working arm, Coran was almost finished stitching their wound, muttering about archaic healing methods. Lance tucked himself physically into Hunk’s grounding presence. His conscience surged forward and crashed into him, searing and hateful. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if Keith hadn’t pulled him back, he was so angry. They were going to kill Pidge, who had been helpless. Unlike the dead space, these people were a threat that Lance could touch, that he could dispose of, as if that would rectify his mistakes. 

 

Lance would have fallen, wrapped in his melancholy, and let himself go in a puff of mist, if not for Hunk holding him, keeping him solid and real. He was ashamed, not just for what he did, but for not being able to stand up for his actions, not even against himself. Because, he would have done it again, if it meant saving Pidge, or any of his team. 

 

Allura picked up the questioning, demanding from the captives, “Are you three the only ones here?” 

 

The small green one spoke up for the first time, “Yeah, this is our scrap yard. It's always been the three of us,” he spat, and glared defiantly. He didn't look afraid, or ashamed, and that rekindled Lance’s anger. He grabbed the feeling, cold and ice hard. He held it close this time, controlled. He clung to it as it floated on the ocean of his panic, to keep his head above water.

 

Lance pulled away from Hunk to stand on his own, but kept the big comforting arm on his shoulders. He looked up, and nodded, letting Hunk know he was OK. His friend was peering back with complicated eyes, but overall he looked concerned. 

 

A sharp gasp snatched Lance’s attention. Keith had the tip of his pilfered sword right against the green ones neck. “Well, now it's our scrap yard,” he declared.

 

“You can’t just-” The green alien was silenced by the tip of the blade piercing his skin enough to bleed.

 

“We can, and we did,” Keith concluded, his temper crimped the ends of his words.

 

“What do we do with them?” Allura brought up the valid question. 

 

Shiro handed Pidge off fully to Coran, and joined Keith and Allura. “We should tie them up for now, and scout the area.”

 

Keith eyed Shiro, and when he spoke, it was clear that the bridge between them was still damaged. “We can’t let them go, ever. They will come back for revenge,” he warned. 

 

Allura stepped in as the voice of reason, she looked between the feuding paladins with unease. “I suggest we restrain them for now, and look around for a possible solution. We don’t really know anything about where we are.”

 

Hunk raised his hand, “I’m on board with this plan. I’m also a fan of a plan where Keith and Lance explain what the  _ hell  _ just happened!” He wasn’t accusing, only confused, and strangely excited. “It was epic!” he tacked on. If it were another time, and place, Lance would of happily gloated, but things were a little precarious. That didn't mean he couldn't smirk like he knew how cool he was.

 

Maybe it was time for the truth, not all of it, but part of it. Lance didn’t think there was any way to cover up how completely in sync he and Keith had been when they saved Pidge. Not even the paladin bond could excuse their perfectly timed movements. Just like Lance’s cover persona, the best lies contained some truth, he reasoned. He felt oddly calm, after everything that happened, this wasn’t so bad.

 

Keith’s hum slid along Lance’s consciousness, and dipped into a pocket deeper than before. He felt  _ acceptance _ , and a whisper, almost indistinguishable from his own thoughts,  _ “OK.”  _ The word was edged in red. Lance shrugged off this new potential development, and he carefully organized it into the ‘deal with it later’ box.

 

“Hunk, my man. Remember when I said I was going to find a new hobby?” Lance slipped into a false casual tone, and tucked away his frayed edges for another time. He ducked out from under Hunk’s arm, and began searching the draws with Allura, looking for some rope.

 

“Yeah…” Hunk responded slowly. That conversation had been a delicate one, and Hunk knew they were scooching around some dangerous territory in front of the team.

 

Lance touched the clip that held his bangs back, remembering how he had decided to grow his hair out that night. “Well, I decided to train more,” He concluded, with a nonchalant shrug.

 

Hunk wasn’t buying it, not completely. The way his eyes narrowed as he watched Allura, and Lance tie up the captives, gave him away. 

 

Keith kept his gun trained on the aliens, and spoke up to solidify their story. “What he means, is I found this idiot-” He gestured at Lance with a head movement, “on the training deck in the middle of the night, and he begged me for help.” He gave the explanation with the perfect amount of sass wrapped around his usual dismissive tone. 

 

Lance was impressed, but he put on an overly offended expression and gasped dramatically. “I did NOT beg!” He squeezed the last of his energy into his acting.

 

“So, you two have been training together for months, and neither of you died?” Hunk seemed more skeptical than before.

 

Allura finished tightening the ropes, and Shiro gave her a hand up from the floor. “That does seem a little strange, since you two are always fighting,” he commented.

 

“Considerin’ how quickly they took us down, I’m inclined to believe ‘em.” The big purple one interjected. Everyone looked at him, and he shrugged, “jus’ sayin.”

 

With the prisoners secure, Keith lowered his weapons. He let his shoulders down from their defensive lift and leaned to one side. “Listen, can you guys think of another plausible explanation for what happened?”

 

Lance could feel Keith, and he was a lot more uptight than he was projecting with his body language, but Lance could read his strategy. Let the team come up with, and then drop, scenarios that were more off the rails than the one they offered. It was sneaky, and Lance liked it. He wanted this issue to fade quietly away, and take with it, his behavior during the interrogation.

 

“M’kes sens’ to me,” weak and slurred, Pidge mumbled from their prone position in Corans arms.

 

“Pidge!” Lance was at their side in a heartbeat, as Coran gently helped them sit up. The team crowded around, all trying to reassure themselves that their youngest teammate was OK. 

 

Pidge groaned and pressed the palm of their hand to their head, “What happened?” They asked, more coherent.

 

Shiro leaned in to check the stitching on their cut, and began to explain. “You got knocked out on reentry, the guys that towed the ship turned out to be… not so great, but-”

 

“KEITH AND LANCE TURNED INTO NINJA WARRIORS AND SAVED YOU!” Hunk yelled, in excitement. 

 

Pidge winced, “Not so loud!” they whined.

 

“Sorry,” Hunk whispered. He curled in on himself, becoming small, and nibbled on his fingernail.

 

Pidge managed to stand, unsteady. Shiro placed a hand on their shoulder to keep them from swaying. “It's fine,” they relented, with a goran trailing after. “I would kill for a coffee, and an aspirin,” they muttered.

 

Lance closed in next to Pidge, and took his turn to inspect their injury, “I miss coffee, it was a tradition in my family,” he lemented with them. He reached out, inviting a hug. He wanted to feel them alive and breathing.

 

Pidge leaned into Lance’s chest, but didn’t pull away from Shiro enough to dislodge his hand. “mine too,” they said. The rest of the team pressed in and formed a loose group hug, even Keith, and then broke apart. Pidge gathered themself together, and stood on their own. It was the cue the team needed to move forward. 

 

Shiro took the lead. “We should start moving, and figure out a game plan.”

 

oOoOo

 

Black smoke swirls, blocked the sky, and below the smog was metal, on the metal was rust. It was piled high, eclipsing the tops of buildings. Dilapidated buildings, constructed from the same metal as the piles, and the ground. Growing from the planet like diseased trees. The sea of brown and rust writhed like maggots; moving parts and ticking cogs, all at different speeds, set against the backdrop of a massive wall in the distance. The wash of monochrome was only broken by bright, varied, sometimes flashing, billboards and signs, all in a looping language, speckled with circles and dots. 

 

Images of beautiful people, looked out from the signs, clearly advertisements. They were similar to the three scrapers currently tied up. They shared the same square pupils, both had interestingly colored skin and hair. But the people on the billboards were thin, lithe, and wholly androgynous, with sharp contrasting color schemes, and jewel colored eyes, purple, blue, green, and even pink.

 

Lance stared at the ruined landscape, and was reminded of slums back on earth, if they were reimagined as a steampunk dystopia. He wanted to cover his mouth, to block the terrible smell of pollution, but refrained, unwilling to take his eyes, or gun, off the captives that shuffled along in front of him, circled by the team.  

 

“Welcome to Yeppeo five,” the pink alien announced. 

 

They were in a large backyard of a run down shack, it was similar to an earth scrap yard. Taller, apartment like buildings framed the small hut. They resembled stacked storage units, that usually lined ship docks.

 

A loud, gruff laugh, barked out from above, followed by the sound of a slap. Lance looked up and to his right. An old lady sat on a small balcony, jutting from one of the storage unit apartments. She had light pink skin, with matching hair, pulled back in a messy bun. Her eyes were covered by tinted goggles. She was laughing and slapping her knee, pointing at them with her other hand.   
  


“Is that you, JA-BERK?!” She screeched in amusement, still laughing. 

 

“CAN IT! Dam-Saeg, ya’ old hag!” The purple alien, named Ja-Berk hollered back. He was unphased by the blood slowly dripping down his leg from the gun wound. 

 

The old lady only laughed harder, “You let some quincy’s get the best of you, Ja. Serves you right, you dan-iro.”

 

Ja-Berk glared up at Dam-Saeg, “Don’t be callin’ me a dan-iro, you… you… DAN-IRO!”

 

Lance was confused, he shared a look with Keith, who seemed just as lost. This wasn’t what they were expecting when they landed. Ja-Berk and the old lady continued to bicker, but the pink alien started to sway sideways, the shift in weight caught Ja’s attention. 

 

“Fen!” He called out, worried.

 

Fen didn’t look very good. He was pale, and clammy. Lance couldn’t find it in himself to care, he felt empty, not a twinge of emotion. If Fen died it would be on his hands, but he couldn’t shake the image of him holding a sword over Pidge. On the other hand, a dead body on a strange planet wasn’t great… 

 

Lance sighed. “Coran, could you get the kit and patch these guys up, I don’t really want to deal with them dying on us.” He asked, ignoring the odd looks he got for his cold attitude.

 

Coran complied, and turned back to the Castleship. 

 

Dam-Saeg’s eyes were drawn to Lance when he spoke, and then to the gun still in his hand. “Are you the one that shot these idiots with their own gun?!” She yelled down to Lance.

 

Lance glared up her, “Yeah, what of it?” He asked, defiantly. He was very thin on patience at this point. His cold anger still lingered.

 

Dam-Saeg smirked, “Good for you! These morons deserved it. Least liked in the area, and my worst tenants.” She stood up, and cracked her back. “Get them inside and fixed up before they bleed to death, and I’ll be down in a moment.” Then she wandered into her apartment, confident that her orders would be followed.

 

Everyone stayed where they were, dumbfounded. Lance’s head was spinning. None of them really slept for over a day cycle, and it was all catching up to him at once. Croan came ambling out of the ship and broke the trance that had fallen over the group.

 

“Come now, you heard the lady. Let’s get moving inside.”  He ushered them along, unconcerned with their situation. Lance envied him, how was he so calm?

 

Inside the shack wasn’t as bad as the outside. The moderately sized common area was furnished with a couple beat up looking couches, a heavily chipped table and something that resembled a television. The floors were made of the same metal as everything else, but scrubbed to remove a majority of the rust. A pathetic throw rug covered the worst of the floor, but discoloration peaked out from under the sides.

 

Coran started work on Fen as soon as they crossed the threshold, with Keith keeping guard, watching their space-uncle’s back. Everyone else milled about, searching through the sparse belongings scattered around. Small knick knacks, and random scrap were being picked up and examined. They ignored Ja-Berks indignant yells,  _ “Oi! Keep yur hands off ma’ stuff! When Saeg get ‘er yur gunna regret it! She own’s ever’ah thin’ ‘ere!” _

 

Lance was still chilled by his anger. He felt scattered, and almost numb. The tips of his fingers tingled, and strangely his scalp did as well. He wanted to crawl out of his skin. Now that he had time to focus on himself, he recognized that he hadn’t felt right since they hit dead space. 

 

“Keep yur grubby hands outta mah drah!” Ja hallard across the room.

 

Hunk was in the corner, rummaging through an end table drawer. He froze, and whipped around to face Je-Berk. His eyes were wide, and his mouth slack in revelation.

 

“How can I understand what he’s saying?!” Hunk’s epiphany caught everyone off guard, and they stopped their snooping. 

 

Coran looked up from stitching Fen, “He does have a strange accent, but it's not that difficult to understand,” He quipped. 

 

Ja-Berk huffed, offended. “I don’ ‘ave a weird accent,” he insisted. His two companions didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood.

 

Hunk ignored him and responded to Coran. “I don’t mean his accent. I mean, how can we understand him without our Lions. Our bond with them is cut off right now, how come the translation is still happening?”

 

_ “I don’ ‘ave a accent!” _

 

Pidge looked dumbstruck, “This destroys our theory about the Lions streaming translation to us.”

 

Allura put down the strange modern scrap metal art she was holding, and chimed in. “I can explain that! The alterations to your brains doesn’t need quintessence to continue translations,” she explained with a smile.

 

Hunk nodded, and bopped his open hand with his fist, “Of course, the alterations to our- WHAT?!” He whipped around with a shocked face.

 

Pidge was next to Hunk is a flash, facing Allura. “What do you mean? Our brains were altered?!” They sounded both panicked and incredibly intrigued.

 

After everything they had seen and done, Lance couldn’t say he was surprised by this revelation. But Hunk and Pidge’s shock was understandable, they had more to lose if their brains were messed with. He couldn’t ignore the very slight pang of satisfaction knowing Hunk was also wrong about how the translation tech worked. He felt a little better when Keith echoed the feeling back through the hum, also remembering the debate they had on the observation deck. 

 

Allura looked innocent and confused, “While, I can understand why you thought your lions were streaming the translations to your minds, that technology was riddled with problems, mostly a slight delay issue, it was very irritating. I believe Pidge calls it ‘Lag’.” She glanced at Pidge for confirmation, and smiled when she got it. “To bypass this problem the Lions partitioned a part of your auditory, and verbal language center to be converted into a translator. The Castle ship did this for myself and Coran long ago. Although, without quintessence we will not be able to update our language bank,” she concluded. 

 

Pidge and Hunk looked at each other like they wanted to open the other’s head and poke at their brain. Everyone else shrugged it off, the way they did  all the crazy magic sci-fi stuff they lived with since coming to space. Blue’s absence ached when Lance thought of their bond, maybe that was why he felt so off. Like he was going to drift away without his Lion to reel him in. his body was still tingling.

 

Without the threat of death, the two most inquisitive members of Voltron seemed to be processing all the new data. Pidge stopped eyeing Hunks head, and brought up another valid question. “If the Lion bond isn’t working, how is our Paladin bond still in tact? Because I’m sure I felt it when we were trapped on the ship.” They glanced at Keith and Lance, indicating who they had synced up with.

 

Hunk bounced on the balls of his feet, excited. “Oh, oh! I didn’t too! Me and Lance bonded, right after I woke up!” He smiled at Lance, who mustered up a return smile. 

 

Allura was practically glowing, the news of her Paladins bonding always brightened her up no matter the situation. But it was Coran that answered the question. He didn’t look away from Ja-Berks gunshot wound as he spoke. “That would be because your bond as Paladins is formed from your life energy, as all bonds between living things are. The bond with your Lions is formed from pure quintessence, because they are not organic.”

 

No one responded, Lance shared a look with Hunk, Pidge, and then Keith. They seemed just as confused. “Come again?” Lance said.

 

Coran packed up the medkit, and swept his gaze over the bewildered, but interested faces. Even the captives looked like they wanted him to explain. He cleared his throat and stood tall. “Let me start at the beginning, I feel, myself and the Princess, might have been remiss in our explanations at the beginning of your journey as a part of Voltron.”

 

The five Paladins abandoned their exploration of the room and gathered in front of Coran. He looked each of them in the eye briefly, and then began his lesson. “You five are Paladins, not by accident, but because you have unique life quintessence, or life energy. Living things do not run on pure quintessence, trying to do so, is dangerous, and results in creatures like Haggard. Pure quintessences is in the air, in planets, and stars, and is used to power non-organic machines, such as the Lions. Living things have altered quintessence that their cells are able to process. Which is why worlds can exist without pure quintessence.” He gestured dramatically around. Indicating they stood on an example of that very thing. “In order for the Lions to bond with a Paladin, their Life quintessence must be similar enough to the Lions pure quintessence for them to mingle. That allows the Lions to alter your body's to accept the bond. It takes time, which is why the Princess always wants you to bond with your Lion, to expedite the process.” He paused to let the information settle, and then dove back in, to answer the main question. “When you five bonded with your Lions. You didn’t just opened a channel between the machine and yourself, but also a channel between each other. With your Lions there is a constant flow of pure quintessence being converted to Life energy, but between paladins it’s just your life energy that binds you. Even in dead space, the process won't be halted now that it has begun.” a soft expression fell over Coran as he finished explaining, he looked proud of the paladins before him.

 

“That sounds intense,” The still unnamed green captive said, with an awed expression, The other two nodded.

 

Coran whirled around and put his hands on his hips, “Indeed it is!” he agreed.

 

Pidge was vibrating with curiosity, their glasses on the end of their nose. “What happens when the paladin bond gets strong, can we piolet each other's Lions? Or can similar paladins already pilot each other's Lions, just not as well? Can-”

 

“Woah, Pidge, slow down. We can have a more in depth discussion later.” Shiro put a hand on their shoulder to keep them from bouncing. He looked concerned, and Pidge was still pale. They pouted, but listened to Shiro. 

In the background Coran was answering the questions Pidge managed to voice before being interrupted, and they listened intently.

 

_ “Why yes, some paladins are suited for more than one Lion. Although, they are still a perfect match for only one. There have even been rare cases when two paladins are so closely bonded, their bond leaked over to their Lions. They were able to communicate with, and even perfectly pilot each other's Lion’s. It is a very rare situation, with complicated prerequisites. It has many names in different cultures, but it's almost always between-” _

 

“Wait,” Hunk interrupted -ignoring Pidge’s glare- he hugged himself, and rubbed his own arms. “Would any of what you said explain why I feel so… icky? Ever since we entered dead space, I've felt weird. I just didn’t think it was important since we were… you know… dying.” He smiled, sheepishly. 

 

“I noticed it as well, I haven’t been feeling right either,” Shiro concurred. He wiggled his shoulder, causing his unresponsive Glara arms to swing, limply. “Besides the obvious issue, that is,” he appended.

 

“As Coran said,” Allura began, while Coran huffed about being interrupted. “pure quintessence exists everywhere outside organic life, even in the air.” She turned sympathetically eyes to Shiro, “We are usually in contact with it all the time, in small doses, and now there is a complete absence of it. Just as coming in contact with to much pure quintessence can cause sudden changes to a living thing, having no contact can do the same, only slower,” she finished.

 

Coran grabbed the chance to be in the conversation again, and picked up Allura’s line of reasoning, “The Princess is quite right, we don’t know what those changes might be, outside of the immediately apparent ones. The dead space suppressing pure quintessence takes the Lions and Castle out of the equation. Also Shiro’s arm, and Alluras magic, both of which manipulate quintessence. All your body's will only have the life energy, or the altered quintessence you produce naturally.”

 

The front door of the shack slammed open, cracking against the wall, and Dam-Saeg strolled in, leaning on an ebony cane, with her goggles pulled up to her hairline. “That is correct, quincy.” She looked at Coran as she spoke, her voice raspy with age. She was smaller than Lance expected, the height of her apartment made her seem taller, but she barely reached four feet. A small woman, with a big bun, and even bigger presence. She dominated the room, while standing still.

 

“Dam-Saeg! I can explain! These quincy they-” Fen started to plead, but Ja-Berk cut him off.

 

“Don’t ya’ beg tha’ old hag fah nothin’!” He hollered. His accent thickened with his anger.

 

Dam-Saeg lifted her cane, and brought it down with a loud clang that cut off Ja and Fen before they could continue to bicker. All three of the captive cringed away from the irritated old lady. Their eyes were wary, as if she had threatened them directly. Lance got the feeling that this woman was not to be messed with.

 

Coran rose from his spot on the floor by Ja-Berk, where he had been stitching him up, and approached Dam-Saeg. He stopped a respectable distance away, and bowed. “Hello madam, I am Coran.” He was the picture of manners. Lance suspected he also noticed the domineering, and authoritative air that simmered below the visage of a rough, but kind old lady. 

 

“Call me Saeg,” She replied offhandedly, and began to circle Coran. She looked him up and down with a critical eye, and even poked him in the back with her cane. All of Voltron was baffled, but the three captives looked nervous.

Saeg stopped in front of Coran, and sighed, with her hand on her chin. “Interesting color scheme, but unfortunately to old,” She concluded, but what her conclusion meant, was beyond Lance. 

 

Shiro stepped forward, shoulders back, head up, but not too intimidating. He projected himself as an authority figure of their group. “I’m Shiro, and we are...”  

 

Saeg turned to him, and didn’t wait for him to finish his speech. She circled Shiro, causing him to trail off in confusion. “No,” she declared, as she poked his prosthetic with her cane, causing it to swing. 

 

Shiro jumped away from the intrusion, but Saeg had already turned to Hunk. The old woman gave him a quick once over, not even bothering to circle him. “ Dan-iro,” she labeled. Lance remember Ja-Berk yelling that word back at Saeg, and it hadn’t sounded like a compliment. Irritation kindled in his stomach as the old lady continued around the room, and he realized, they were being judged. 

 

Allura tried to interrupt, but didn’t get past the first syllable. Saeg was suddenly right in front of her, much closer than with the others, staring Allura in the face. “Magnificent eyes,” She announced, and took a step back. “Good contrast,” She continued, walking around Allura once, and stopping. She looked her up and down one more time, and lifted her cane, “but we will have to do something about the breasts.” Saeg poked Allura’s chest.

 

The Princess squeaked, and leapt away, right into Shiro, who had come up behind her protectively. They didn’t get a chance to protest, because Saeg had already turned to her next victim, Pidge. This time, not only Shiro, but the entirety of team Voltron made a menacing, and protective move against Saeg and towards Pidge. It did not go unnoticed, and Saeg took a deliberate step away from the youngest team member. 

 

“Doro-ni,” She quickly judged, and then closed in on Lance.

 

Saeg was close. She didn't circle him, or look him up and down, but studied his face, like she had done to Allura. Lance could see Keith from the corner of his eye, his hand twitched near the handle of the sword in his belt. The red hum was taut, and on edge. It was laced with a possessive streak that hadn't been there before.

 

Saeg huffed in Lance’s face, disappointed. “Nice eyes, to bad about the rest of you,  dan-iro ” She gestured at him in general.   

 

It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. It was what he thought when he looked in the mirror. His smoldering irritation was put out by a flood of disgust, of course he was ugly, even by alien standards. He was gross, and- the taut red line that was Keith, loosened and bloomed. It was comforting, and indignant on his behalf. Lance couldn’t find room in his head for anything other than Keith, it only lasted a few seconds, but it diverted the negative path of his thoughts. It also confirmed what Lance dreaded, that his baggage could travel down the bond. This was something he would have to work on, he refused to saddle anyone else with his own problems. Suddenly, The bond vibrated and pulled tight, as if Keith was trying to summon Lance to his side. It was screaming discontent.

 

It was Keith's turn, and he looked very uncomfortable. Saeg turned to him, and paused. “Oh, my,” she breathed. Her brown eyes raked over him, and stilled on his face. Keith leaned away from Saeg as she moved closer, and continued to tilt away as she circled. She didn’t touch him with her cane, or make any comments until she was finished examining him. 

 

Saeg stood directly in front of Keith, with a soft face, “Stunning eyes, wonderful contrast, perfect build. All around a beautiful piece.” She pointed her cane at him and a smirked, “we are going to make a killing, yep-nari,” she announced.

 

Cold anger, stirred up when the old lady called Keith a ‘piece’, like an object, and it swept away the remains of Lance’s self pity. Keith's simmering anger was rising, covering Lance’s, and together their irritation threatened to form a storm.

 

Before either of them could blow up, a timid voice, quivered from the back of the room. “We brought you something pretty, Saeg. So maybe we can just let this all be forgotten?” The smallest of the captives, with the dark green skin and black hair, shrank away as he spoke. 

 

Saeg eyed him with a sharp gaze. She was like a hawk eyeing a lone mouse. “It seems more like this dan-iro.” She nodded at Lance, “has brought you three to me, Luse.” Saeg was a predator, dangerous and sly.

 

The room stilled, every person felt the danger in the air. The green captive, now known as Luse, tried to back away, but was unable to move the two larger people tied to him.

 

Lance restrained his irritation, and pushed on Keith through the bond, to do the same. Reluctantly, the red hum pulled back and rested. Lance gaged his team's reaction, but it was Shiro who met his eyes directly. They shared a look of understanding, they needed to play this out right, and Saeg was apparently a big dog in this world.

 

“You can’t do this, we have been scrappahs in this Yeppeo fa’ too long!” Ja-Berk lashed out. Picking up on some subtext that went over Lance’s head.

 

Saeg looked at Ja with no sympathy, “I can, and I will. You three have failed me for the last time.” 

 

Ja-Berk tried to retort, but was shut up by his two friends. Fens hand was covered by Luse’s when they both went for Ja’s mouth at the same time.

 

Saeg surveyed the room, slowly looking over each person again, and then stepped back to face them all. “Tell me your skill sets,” she demanded. It wasn’t harsh, simply an order. “We will start with you, Doro-ni,” She pointed to Hunk with her cane.

 

Hunk jumped, and rubbed his hands together, nervously. He was frazzled, and the curved edges of his demeanor were scuffed with fear, and anxiety. He shuffled in place, and glanced at Shiro, who nodded for him to answer. Lance noted Saeg’s sharp eyes flicker to Shiro when Hunk’s did, and she picked up on the gesture as well.

 

“Uhhhh, Hello…” Hunk stammered, “I, ummm… Don’t know what Doro-ni means, but my names Hunk…” He cleared his throat, and Saeg waited, surprisingly patient, as if Hunk were a small child. “I’m an engineer?” He finished, questioning whether that was the information she sought. 

 

Saeg nodded, “A quincy engineer, I assume?” They asked politely, having packed away the vicious attitude she had directed at Luse.

 

Hunk’s shoulders eased, and he took a cleansing breath, “A bit, but the planet I come from also doesn’t use quintessence, so I know a bunch about other energy sources.” His personality was smoothing over, and Saeg smiled, pleasantly. But it reminded Lance of himself, when he looked in a mirror for too long. It was displaced, and out of sync with her eyes, and he knew she didn’t mean it. 

 

“Is that so? That is very interesting, you may be more useful than I thought.” She sounded friendly, but Lance understood that her words were calculated, he had could tell, because he used the same tactic himself. Hunk didn’t seem to notice.

 

Saeg pointed at Pidge, but didn’t approach them this time. Pidge was observant, and seemed to have figured out that plan to play along. So, without looking at Shiro, they answered with confidence. “I’m a computer specialist, and I originate from the same planet as Hunk.” 

 

Saeg eyed Pidge with more interest, and it set Lance on edge. He wasn’t sure what to think of this old woman. She didn’t come off slimy, or evil. But he had an ambiguous pool forming in his chest, that whispered to him not to relax around her.

 

Lance was under Saeg’s scrutiny next, she tipped her head towards him, “How about you? I already know you’re capable enough to take down those three idiots.” She jabbed her thumb at her current tenants, and smirked. 

 

Lance thought that maybe, she was trying to get on his good side... it was working, a little. Compliments were his weakness. There was also the possibility that she was actually glad Lance shot them, or both. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, gun still held in the other, “Uh yeah, Me and Keith took them down together.” He indicated which one of them was Keith, with what he hoped was a casual glance.

 

Keith stood taller, proud of his abilities. Saeg kept her eyes on Lance, “The yep-nari won’t need to worry about things like fighting, or even thinking, anymore,” Saeg said, and without skipping a beat she moved on. “Are your combat and shooting skills the sum of your parts?” 

 

Thrown by Saeg’s strange comment about Keith, Lance spoke without thinking. “I knit…” He replied, and then snapped his mouth shut. He expected a weird look, or scathing comment, but none came.

 

Saeg smiled, and this time it lifted her cheeks, crinkling her eyes. There was harmony between her features that was missing before, and it caused something to pulled at Lance, frantic for his attention. She looked so different with a genuine smile, was that also true for himself?

 

“I do too,” Saeg’s voice matched her smile, “Maybe we can compare notes sometime.” She turned to continue her questioning, and approached Shiro.

 

Lance folded inward, becoming introspective, and the conversation around him seemed to fade. The frantic pulling managed a firm grasp on his attention, and held his mind in place. Red edged around his thoughts, but Lance focused on holding it away. His mind strained with the effort. He didn't want to subject Keith to angst, not over this. Lance’s appearance was something that plagued him all his life, it was never ‘right’, even when he couldn’t place his finger on what ‘right’ was. But now, an incessant tugging, insisted that he look inside himself again. 

 

Lance’s self esteem had always been fragile, buffeted all his life by violent storms of anxiety, and panic. It hid away in the eroded channels left behind by acidic, hate and disgust. Now, he carefully unwrapped it, only to see it had grown stronger when he wasn't looking. It was what clawed for his attention, and pulled at him to notice Saeg’s smiles. It wasn't a concerned friend picking him up off the bathroom floor, or a crush noticing his insecurities, or even a sister trying to cheer him up. It was just Lance. He had done it for himself this time. 

 

Lance’s hold on the bond slipped, and with a snap like a rubberband, Keith’s red hum slammed back into his mind. He was almost panicked, and Lance saw the emotion barely concealed behind Keith’s eyes. Lance pulled the bond closer to his thoughts, instinctively. He wanted to reassure Keith, and let him know everything was fine.

 

_ “It’s OK,” _ Lance thought, and he felt it slip between the folds of red.

 

The tight corners of Keith’s eyes relaxed, and his brows went up to his hairline. The backlash of surprise and shock was unexpected, but brought with it a realization. Keith had heard his thought, and not just the sentiment behind it. Lance tried to think something at Keith again, but the sensation of his words being drawn into the red stream didn’t happen this time.

 

The metallic clang of Saeg’s Cane on the metal floor broke Lance’s concentration. “I will be back later with your assignments, until then, settle in.” She ended the conversation, and left the house.

 

Ooo

 

So, here they were. In a run down house, with a gubby throw rug under Lance’s feet. Team Voltron was trapped. Saeg left the shack with an ambiguous statement, and an equally ambiguous return scheduled. Everyone discussed what had just happened, including the part that Lance had tuned out at the end.  From what he could gather, they were offered a place to live… and possible jobs?

 

“I’m not really sure what happened, but I feel like I had very little choice in the outcome.” Shiro rubbed the back of his head. He looked upset, and guilty, as if he let the team down by not controlling the situation completely. Lance disagreed, going along with Saeg like they did, was the right call, and everyone who noticed, agreed, or they would have spoken up.

 

Pidge voiced the same opinion before Lance could formulate the words. “We can’t force every situation, we did the right thing. We need to blend in to survive.” They rubbed their hands up in down their own arms and shivered, “But I have never felt so welcomed, and simultaneously unsettled.” They frowned.

 

“Yur’ah lucky the old hag was ‘ere, without her ya would be dead,” Ja-Berk said conversationally, still restrained in the corner.

 

Fen jabbed Ja with a sharp elbow, and smiled at the room, “Do you mind untying us?” He still looked a little pale, but was much better off because of the treatment from Coran. 

 

Hunk, in a rare show of intimidation, used his full size to tower over the -only slightly shorter- aliens. “And why, would we do that?” He asserted.

 

With a slight quiver, Luse answered, “because Saeg owns you, and killing you now would be a death sentence.”  

 

“Owns us?” Keith paled, and his voice became rough and corroded. 

 

Luse straighten up with a cocky tilt to his stance, and held Keith's eyes. “Yeah, Yeppeo five is Saeg’s, and she just decided you all were worth keeping.”

 

Keith recoiled from the response, it wasn’t a dramatic movement, but a significant one. Lance heard him swallow, and saw his eyes quiver, signs of a visceral reaction. Then, it slithered down their bond, a thoughtless, suffocating, fear. It wasn’t like the fear of dying, of being hated, or exposed, it felt like nothing Lance as ever experienced. Helpless, but appealing. It was silk cords twisted around his insides, soft, and unbearably tight. He was being strangled from the inside, confined to a smaller world, comforted and terrified. Lance didn’t know what to do, or how to help. Keith was experiencing something outside the realm of his understanding, what would make a person feel like that? 

 

Shiro stepped in, blocking Keith from Luse’s view, and giving him a moment to recover. A few deep breaths later, and the fear loosened. The entire ordeal was a flash, only Shiro noticed, as if he knew the signs. If Lance hadn’t felt it, he would have doubted it happened at all. 

 

“What does Saeg have that gives her so much power?” Shiro asked.

 

“Fate,” Luse returned, without inflection, and left behind a ringing silence.

 

A long, and suffering sigh filled the room. One that sounded as if it had been cultivated over many years. “Don’t be so dramatic, Luse,” Ja-Berk grumbled. “I want’a be untied befo’ah I piss myself.”

 

“Fine…” Luse huffed, unamused. He slouched and pouted. “Saeg controls identities in yeppeo five. She can fabricate work papers that allow yep-nari to work in higher Yeppeo. She collects a profit from their income, and uses their livelihood to control their families. Once they have earned enough she lets them go do as they please, or so she claims. Everyone else in this forsaken Yeppeo relies on her for other work, her profit from the yep-nari allows her to control the economy,” Luse explained with the attitude of a grumpy teenager, and shoved his shoulder into Ja, “Happy!?” He growled.

 

“Yes!” Ja snapped back, and then looked at Shiro, “Now, will ya untie us?”

 

Fen grunted a short laugh. “We were going to kill them not long ago, they’re not dumb. Should have let Luse have his fun fucking with them.”

 

No one moved to fulfill his request. Lance was tired, and just wanted to rest. He could feel ambivalence creeping up. He glanced around, trying to gage how the others felt. They looked just as worn out, but Shrio met his eyes, seeking an opinion. “Any thoughts, Lance?” He asked. The question felt like a test. Shiro had already made his decision, it was clear on his face and in his voice, but he was prodding Lance anyway. Checking to see if their opinions aligned.

 

Lance struggled through the fog in his head, but couldn’t muster a solution. He took in his beaten down team. Allura was leaning on Shiro’s shoulder, with absolutely no pretense. Pidge was sitting on the floor, slumped against Hunks leg, while Hink leaned on a chair. Coran’s shoulder was flat on the wall, holding most of his weight. Keith was the only person standing alone and unassisted, but he was still pale. His eyes twitched to the captives, and his expression became tight, and guarded. Lance just wanted to be alone with him, to lay down and smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

 

Lance heaved a sigh, he was officially done, he didn't have it in him to make a plan. “Untie them,” He shrugged.

 

Shiro blinked, obviously not expecting that.

 

With a slow wave, Lance gestured to the three captives, his movements weighed down with exhaustion. “If they’re going to try and kill us, we can’t stop them. So, we might as well take the first step to gaining each other's trust. Because the only way to be certain they can’t get us, is to kill them. Do you want us to murder unarmed, tied up people?” He explained, and then leaned back against the wall.

 

“You’re right,” Shiro took a deep breath, and slowly released it. His shoulders sagged as he finally let his fatigue show. “I thought we could leave them tied up, but you’re right,” he admitted.

 

Keith had his knife out before Shiro finished his sentence, and gripped it tight with a white knuckled fist. Fen and Luse cowered away, but Ja-Berk lifted his chin defiantly, as Keith approached. His stance, expression, and even his breathing, were aggressive, but when he reached out he was gentile. Keith carefully cut the ropes, and stepped back.

 

No one moved. The two groups were separated by the length of a throw rug, It was faded and worn threadbare, much like the people that stood at its edges. Lance felt like one good tug on any of his loose strings would undo him, and he was fed up.

 

“Listen…” Lance began, and stepped onto the well trafficked rug. All three aliens looked at him, but Fen leaned away from his approach. “I’m tired, and I’m not exactly sure whats going on. But from what I’ve gathered, we are stuck with each other. So, can we please drop this stand off bullshit so I can go lie down?” He proposed, with a heavy voice.

 

Lance’s words coated the room, and restrained everyone for a beat. The blunt statement sank in, and Luse was the first to break free. He stepped away from his companions, and stood in front of Lance. “We aren't lying about Saeg, you are under her protection. She gave you the-”

 

“Don’t ya tell ‘em!” Ja interrupted, with a snarl He grabbed Luse by the shoulder and pulled him away. “If they din’t get it, then it’s not ou’ah problem!” He snapped. 

 

Luse ripped his shoulder away, and glared at Ja. “You’re the one that doesn’t get it, we can’t defy Saeg!”

 

Fen, still pale, carefully placed a hand on each of his companions arms. “We should explain the situation to them, Ja. They could have killed us, and no one would have faulted them, but they healed us instead. Maybe they will understand.” He seemed to be the most level headed, and considering he was the one that tried to kill Pidge, it wasn’t a reassuring observation. 

 

Ja-Berk glanced at Fen’s tired face, and bandaged arm. With a sigh, he relented, and relaxed into the hand on his arm. “OK, fine,” He grunted, letting everyone know he was not pleased with the decision.

 

Fen’s shoulders dipped, it was a small movement, but it completed his ragged appearance. He turned to Lance, and pulled a weak smile that fought against his exhaustion, and lost. “I a-apo-apologize for trying t-t-o kill the little one,” He stuttered, suddenly more on edge. He was sincere, but it was wrapped around something deeper. His eyes quivered, and his pupils dilated. He was afraid… of Lance?

 

A thread of anger tried to wiggle its way into Lance’s tired heart, but fell short. It stretched out in his chest and slowly withered away. He wasn’t letting it go, but he was too tired to hate. Lance released a heavy breath through his nose, and nodded. Not accepting the apology fully, but allowing it to exist between them.  How had he become the spokesperson for their team? 

 

Fen looked at the ground, and twisted his hands. He looked up, nervous. “Saeg has left me, and my friends in a… situation,” he began, calmer, letting his hands fall to his sides. “She left things unanswered on purpose, to test us. We could try and run, or we could be honest. What she didn’t explain, is that she gifted us to you, and that includes everything we own.” He struggled with the words, forcing them out against his instincts.

 

“She gave you to us?!” Lance was awake, very awake. An unpleasant shock ran up his spine. Saeg left these three to explain their enslavement, as a test? Of what, obedience? 

 

Fen jumped, startled, and then shook his head, “N-not to your team, just y-y-you.” The stutter was back.  

 

Lance was sick, the shock settled into a nausea, and he swallowed it. “Why just me? Keith defeated you too,” He argued, unsure of what else to do.

 

Fen laughed, dry and heavy. “No, you're yep-nari doesn’t need us,” he answered.

 

It took a moment for Lance to understand that Keith was the yep-nari, and he still didn’t know what any of this meant. His confusion was obvious, and Fen pushed forward, eager to be done with this conversation. “I can explain everything later, but you have to decide what you’re going to do with us now,” Fen was short and to the point, but a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.

 

“What I’m going to do with you?”  Lance wondered, what was he supposed to say? He looked to his team for help, but only received a few shrugs, and confusion mirroring his own. Except Keith, who kept his face blank, but the tight fold of his arms, and white knuckled fists, coupled with his pale face, screamed how he felt. Lance noticed for the first time that the red hum was missing, and he knew Keith was holding it back with all his effort. The absence, spoke volumes in the empty space left behind. 

 

Lance didn’t want to own anyone, “I can’t just give you back?” He asked, hopefully.

 

Ja-Berk growled, “Yeah, if ya wanna get us killed,” He barked, and took a step towards Lance. 

 

Fen put a hand on Ja’s chest, and the soft touch alone held him back. Fen smiled, and it didn’t reach his eyes. “While we appreciate the sentiment, you can’t release us,” he explained softly, his words wavered.

 

Lance was at a loss. It was Allura who ended up knowing how to best handle the situation. With her experience being royalty, she was able to gracefully resolve the situations. She stepped up next to Lance, placed her hand on his arms, and began to speak, and he was grateful.

 

“Might I suggest, that we keep things as they were. You three know how to run this scrap yard, and can keep doing so. We will simply share this space with you until my team figures things out,” she offered, calm and collected.

 

Lance jumped on the her reasonable solution, “Yes, that. We should do that,” he agreed.

 

The line of tension that ran through Fen and his friends, eased. “OK,” he nodded.

 

Hunk, with his shoulders hunched, and frame curled in to be small, raised his hand. “Can we sleep now? I almost froze to death today, and it really takes a lot out of a guy,” he asked, and nervously smiled. 

 

“I’m with Hunk, I’m going to go open the doors of our rooms in the castle,” Pidge volunteered. They left without waiting for permission, and Hunk followed close behind them. His voice echoed from the yard,  _ “Can you open mine first?” _

 

“I guess we should all get some rest,” Shiro ventured. He looked like it was less of a proposal, and more of a requirement, before he fell asleep standing.

 

Keith, stood still, just as tense as before, but paler. “So, we have to sleep with open doors in the ship?” He bit out, the tension in his body put a strain on his voice.

 

An echo of red passed through Lance. It was thin, and watery with the same brand of helpless fear that he didn’t understand, then it was gone again. But he could tell Keith was reining, with a slipping grip, and it showed. His hands were beginning to quiver, and he was losing more color by the second. 

 

“We have a small spare room that locks,” Fen offered Keith, without a trace of his previous nerves.

 

Shiro stepped in, “I don’t like the idea of one of us staying here alone.” 

 

The words bubbled up before Lance could stop them, “I’ll stay with him.” He was in dire need of rest, if he said that out loud.

 

Lance saw the worry in Shiro’s gaze, he was the only other person that noticed that Keith wasn’t alright.

Under the surface of his worn expression, Lance could see a deeper understanding of Keiths behavior. Whatever was going on was something Shiro had dealt with in the past, and he was unsurprised by Keith’s request for a locking door. But, he still looked ready to protest with the last bit of his energy. Until he glanced at Keith, and suddenly backed off. 

 

Keith wasn’t looking at Shiro, or even acknowledging that he spoke. Lance remember the argument he overheard, now that they were relatively safe, Keith seemed to have remembered as well.

 

Shiro glanced at Lance, “Fine,” He relented, but he wasn’t angry. He looked and sounded like he was trying to salvage the scraps of something important, something he had lost.

 

With a small nod, Lance hoped he could ease Shiro’s concern, and let him know he would keep an eye on Keith.

 

Ooo

 

They were alone. The door to the spare room clicked shut, and the lock was flipped. Lance focused on the room. It was small, with a single bed, one table, and the same scrubbed metal floors. He tried to prepare himself to face Keith, to turn around, and literally face him. But he couldn’t control his tired thoughts. His anxiety whispered to him, and told him Keith only kissed him because they were going to die. He was pulling the bond away because he wanted to break it. He didn’t want Lance.

 

“Ace,” The single word was a breath, and a whine.

 

Red. An ocean of red, covered by a raging storm, slammed into Lance. It rushed into his nose, coated his mouth, and choked him. It cover his eyes, filled them, and blinded him. Fear, coiled through his body, suffocating, terrifying… complacent. Like water that grew hot, slowly, unnoticed, until it was too late. Sharp shame snuck up from behind, and delivered a deep, and heavy blow to Lance’s heart. Its weight tried to pull him under the boiling water, and make him drop to his knees with remorse. He was so disoriented, it took a moment for Lance to realize he was feeling the bond recoil. These were Keith’s feelings.

 

Lance turned, and discovered that none of his worries were founded. He wasn’t looking at a disgusted, or laughing Keith. Instead he saw a Keith who needed help, like Lance had needed it. He was shaking, pale, with his head bowed to the floor. He didn’t move, or reach out, but this time it was Lance’s turn to help. 

 

“Rojo, come ‘ere,”  he opened his arms, and stepped forward, leaving only an inch between them.

 

Keith stiffened, and looked up, searching Lance’s face. When he founded what he was looking for, he closed the gap. It was only a small shift of weight, but it represented a canyon of emotion. Lance hugged Keith close, pressing their chest together with one arm, and holding his head with the other. Keith hugged back, both arms around Lance’s middle. 

 

The raging fire of constricting feelings, still pulsed down the bond. Lance didn’t know what set this off, but he tried his best to douse the flames. “It’s OK, everything's fine,” He soothed in his best imitation of Hunk’s rounded personality.

 

Keith pulled Lance closer, until their bodies were flush, and pressed his face into Lance’s neck. They stood like that for minutes, while Keith’s breathing slowed, and the inferno flowing through the bond petered out. 

 

There was no sound, or movement, but something shifted. A spark, static, it crawled over Lance, down to his toes and back up to his chest. The feeling resonated in the bond. Then, Keith slowly kissed Lance’s neck. Pleasure bloomed over his skin, and he felt it slip between the red folds in his mind. Keith gasped, and the pleasure whispered back to Lance.

 

Oh… now they can feel each other’s… oh… that’s new.

 

The realization struck, and Keith didn’t hesitate. He bit down on Lance’s neck, and moaned. A sharp gasp forced the air to part, as their mutual thrill ricocheted, in an elongated, tapering, echo. Keith pushed forward, Lance stumbled, and met the bed that was not far away in the small room. He toppled backwards, and Keith followed. 

 

Hunger, and endless pleasure, encompassed the bond. Keith straddle Lance, and kissed him, hard. The contact was a merging, and Lance didn’t know where the sensations came from anymore. It was bright, and ringing between them, filling every corner of their minds. Keith’s hands slid under Lance’s shirt, and left trails of heat in their wake. Lance moaned, and let Keith in. Lance had never known true hunger, until he felt Keith’s. The kiss was deep, and rough, almost painful. Lance wanted this, had yearned for it, and now he only caught it in snippets. Blurred, hurried, and blinking out between waves of disorienting bliss that was blended and seamless.

 

Rushed hands pulled his shirt up until it couldn’t go any higher, and Keith kissed and bit from Lance’s jaw, to his neck, and sucked on his collar bone. Blinding white pleasure continued to echo and grow, filling every inch of Lance, overloading every synapse in his brain. 

 

But even through the endless field of white, and ringing in his ears, a familiar voice whispered to Lance.

 

_ ‘Why?’  _ It asked, _ ‘why you?’  _

 

Lance keened, and moaned as Keith’s hand slid down and grabbed him through his jeans, demanding and needy.

 

_ ‘you don’t deserve this,’ _ Lance tried to ignore the voice. He craved this, he felt attractive, wanted.  _ ‘But are you good enough? Will he keep you after?’ _ it responded, Insistent and intrusive.

 

With a sharp tug, Keith ripped the button open. The sound of the zipper was loud with the force used to pull it down. Keith's desire grew, and projected in a high heady hum that filled Lance with the certainty that he was wanted.

 

_ ‘Why…?’ _ Lance’s anxiety whispered again, and the thought drifted away, caught up in the hum, and down the bond.

 

Keith stopped, and pulled away to look down at Lance. Both of them were panting, and hard, but Keith’s face was awash with anguish. Lance knew that he had felt the insecure worry, even through the storm that raged between them. It was like a lighthouse, cutting through the fog.

 

“Ace,” Keith said firmly, and placed both his hands on Lance’s cheeks. “I want this, and you. Is this what you want?” He asked, completely sincere. 

 

Pain murmured to Lance, it was in preparation for something much worse, like bracing for a slap. It wasn’t his, but it might as well have been. His flaws were hurting Keith. They were abrasive, and rubbing him raw, ultimately for nothing, because Lance knew what he wanted. His doubt was an empty threat.

 

“Yes,” The word was stronger than ‘why’, and Lance meant it.

 

Keith lunged at him. The kiss was still domineering, and possessive. But a tone rang clear in the building desire, this was for Lance, to make sure he felt wanted. Keith kissed a path down his body, biting and claiming. He stopped at the waist of Lance’s jeans and looked up. He smirked, and Lance felt his heart swoop. This was a side of Keith he hadn't expected. He was confident as he pulled down Lance's boxer, not a trace or his usual awkwardness.

 

A hot bolt ran through Lance. Keith’s mouth around his head was endless strikes of lightning, and they forked to every corner of his body. They both paused, panting, as the pleasure rushed between them, and then Keith swallowed him whole. Lance couldn’t stop himself bucking up, but Keith rode it out, and then held down Lance’s hips. The bright, white, pleasure rained down and filled them up. It fell through them, on them, and between them, the tide rising with every pass. And when Lance crested, Keith devoured him. 

 

He arched off the bed, choking on a yell that couldn't fit out of his mouth. Lance clawed the bed sheets, for anything to keep him for shooting into the sky, and ended up with a hand full of Keith's hair, holding him in place. He throbbed in Keith's warm mouth until he was empty, and registered what he had done. Keith pulled away, and crawled up Lance's body with no complaints about the rough handling. A proud little smirk on his face.

 

They were side by side, catching their breath. 

 

“What about you?” Lance asked. Only now clear headed enough to think of it.

 

Keith chuckled and held up one of his hands, “I need a way to clean this, that bond thing made it impossible for me to not cum.” 

 

A short time later, after the use of one of Keiths socks, they were comfortable in bed.. Lance on his back, and Keith curled into him, with his head on Lance’s chest. Neither of them were sleeping, despite their exhaustion. Lance floated on the surface of the moment, buoyed by his contentment, that juxtaposed with the events of the last twenty four hours. It was surreal, him laying there like that. Lance listened to the red hum, that rumbled in the background of his placid mind, and recognized a similar contentment in Keith, and it slid over any worries he might have had... except one.

 

“Rojo,” Lance murmured timidly.

 

Keith hummed in acknowledgment.

 

Lance cleared his throat, “Why didn’t you just tell me about…” He hesitated, and then lifted his hands above Keith's face, “you know,” he touched the tips of his index fingers together, to indicate his meaning.

 

Keith snorted, then laughed, and turned his face into Lance’s neck, “Why are you like this?” He snickered.

 

“I’m being serious!” Lance tired and failed to be indignant, while his fingers still touching repeatedly in the air. He could feel Keith’s laugh in every place their bodies touched, and each vibration sent waves of tingly joy through Lance. Each one felt like it was healing the channels that usually filled with his panicked emotions. 

 

Keith laughed harder when he looked up again, and saw Lance still making the same hand gesture. He reached up and pulled the hands down, “I thought I was being motherfucking obvious, I cuddled with you for fucks sake!” His sharp language was dampened by the smile in his voice.

 

“Not obvious enough, apparently!” Lance shot back, but hugged Keith closer.  “I was scared of messing our friendship up, by making a move...” He admitted, in a small voice. He kept the part about not being good enough for Keith to himself. He didn’t want to rehash his self esteem problems, it always riled Keith up.

 

“So was I!” Keith answered immediately, as if it were obvious. 

 

Lance huffed, “but I told you I was bisexual, you didn’t have to worry that I wasn't into dudes!” He ran his hand up and down Keith's back, soft and warm despite their bickering.

 

Keith paused, and the hand he rested on Lance’s chest curled into the fabric of the shirt below it. “That, doesn’t mean you would be into me!” His voice rose at the end, lifted by his embarrassment. The red in Lance’s mind became dark, and curled in, as if preparing to take a blow. There was fear that he recognized this time, fear of rejection.

 

Their little argument was suddenly serious, as Keith tensed against Lance. Admitting insecurity wasn’t easy, and Lance realized that Keith might have been scared too. Afraid of breaking their delicate balance, and of being turned down. Lance felt stupid. Even with his limited knowledge of Keith’s childhood, he knew Keith was passed around from family to family, and should have suspected rejection was something he grappled with.  Lance placed his hand over Keith’s clenched fist, and pressed down to smooth it flat. At the same time he brushed his mind against the taut ribbon of dark red.

 

They needed to start being truthful about their thoughts and feelings, especially now that the line between their minds was blurring. Lance slowly took a breath through his nose, and was honest. “I… guess I’m just a little hurt you didn’t tell me, after I opened up about my sexuality.”

 

The rigid line of Keith’s body relaxed, and moulded back into Lance. Soft red bloomed in the bond, reassured, but nervous. “I didn’t want to ‘one up’ you…” Keith murmured, with his face back in Lance’s neck. 

 

“What?” Lance couldn’t believe what he heard, was Keith really that socially awkward?. He sat up, forcing Keith to sit up with him, and put his hands on Keith's shoulders.

 

With his face behind the curtain of his bangs, Keith explained quietly. “You were so scared when you told me, I didn’t want to be  _ that  _ guy. Like, I was overshadowing your confession with my own. And then… I couldn’t find a good time to bring it up...” His voice faded, and he sank a little lower where he sat.

 

Seeing Keith like this wasn’t common, but Lance hated it every time. It always pulled at him in an uncomfortable way. The hands on Keith’s shoulders slid up to the sides of his face, and Lance rubbed his thumb across the smooth cheek, “That's not how it works, Rojo.” The things Keith decided were hard to bring up, versus what he just blurted out, baffled Lance...

 

The bond cracked like a whip, and timid Keith was gone. 

 

“Well, I’m bad at these things!” Keith snapped, he wasn't hiding being his hair anymore, but glaring at Lance. “Was I supposed to just confess back? And say what? ‘Oh hey, it’s a good thing you’re bi, because I’m gay, and I think you’re hot!?” He was being snide, but still blushed.

 

Lance smirked, “You think I’m hot?” His erosive river of his self-degradation, evaporated in the heat Keith’s confession, just a little bit. 

 

Keith deflated, “That’s what you took from this?” He asked. The light lift of his voice gave away his amusement. His face softened, when Lance didn't answer immediately with a snarky joke. The skipped beat in their conversation was filled with a sense of wonder, and disbelief, that flowed from Lance down their bond. Keith covered Lance’s hands, still on the sides of his face, with his own. “Yeah, I think you’re hot,” he repeated, with no shame. His compliment rolled out easily.

 

Lance didn’t want to give so much away. But he couldn’t pull back his astonishment. This beautiful person, thought he was attractive. Lance could tell that Keith had figured out what was going on in his head. Under all the layers of emotion they were exchanging, was a glimmer of sadness. Keith was sad that Lance was surprised by the compliment.

 

“Really?” The question was involuntary. Lance only wanted to make sure once more. He didn't want Keith to look closer, and see what Lance saw every time he looked in the mirror.

 

Keith leaned in, slowly. Their lips touched, feather light, full of caring. He pulled back only enough to speak. “I’m pretty sure I made it clear a little while ago,” he whispered. It was sensual, a small glimpse of the Keith that had filled every one of Lance’s senses not long ago. It was a side of him that Lance hadn’t expected. Keith was touch starved, and awkward in all situations. Until tonight, when he took charge and showed a level of confidence and experience that was surprising. Not that he was complaining.

 

Lance felt all the blood rush up to his face, and what was left slid down, and pooled. He cleared his throat and pecked Keith on the lips in return. “Right,” He said stiffly, “We should probably talk about that… what happened just now.” He managed to say.

 

Keith pulled back, as if preparing for the worse. “Did you not-”

 

“NO! No, it was great!” Lance jumped in, only just realizing how he came off. “I just… we… are we a thing now?” Dear lord he was lame, he tried to pull himself together.

 

Keith relaxed, “Yeah, I want to be together. For real.” He confessed with an ease Lance envied. If only everyone could simply say how they felt.

 

“Me, too,” Lance squeaked out, and cleared his throat, “All or nothing, right?” He offered, because he did want it all. Love, an ocean of it filled Lance, and he thought maybe some of it wasn’t his, but Keith’s. It pushed out the acid and hate, to make room for all that came with it. Every channel of his mind was lined with red, and the bond hummed deeper than ever before, wiggling its way into every crevice. 

 

A similar experience was overcoming Keith, Lance could see it in his eyes. The bond was growing on both sides, and maybe, he was also feeling their emotions mix, and recognized Lance’s love for what it was. Hopefully it wouldn’t scare him away, the feeling was strong, but young, and too new to admit out loud. 

 

“Yeah, I’m- I’m all in,” Keith’s voice cracked, “glad we’re on the same page.” He tried to act casual, and they both pulled their hands away.

 

There was an intense moment of awkwardness, and Lance needed to break it. “We have a lot of other things to talk about, but maybe we should wait until tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah… I’m tired…” Keith agreed with drawn out words.

 

The awkwardness was still in tact, both of them unsure of how to deal with their emotions, and the bond that they still haven’t fully acknowledged exists. 

 

Lance was determined to smooth over the atmosphere. He would use his most reliable tactic, and it would be sweet revenge for all of Keith’s complements. Two birds, one stone. Lance plastered on his trade mark smirk, “ Do you have a sunburn?” He asked.

 

Keith tipped his head, “What?”

 

“or are- or are you always this hot?” Lance almost stumbled over the delivery, distracted by the head tilt. His chest tightened with nerves, and his stomach squirmed. He held it in, scared of his flirting falling flat.

 

Keith stared at Lance blankly, “I’m not particularly warm…” His answer trailed of, confused.

 

Lance slumped over, Keith watched him flop onto his side, bewildered. Not willing to give up, Lance shot finger guns at Keith while still laying down, “I was feeling a little off today, but you definitely turned me on.” 

 

Keith turned red. There was no way he didn’t pick up Lance’s meaning this time. This was apparently Keith's weakness, if only he had realized it sooner. He would have been hitting on him a long time ago. 

 

Lance continued with a smug grin, “are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.”

 

“Stop!” Keith was stuck between mortification and laughing.

 

Lance smiled changed, and he didn't realize it, but it was a true smile, and lit him up. The real Lance was coming out, it had been a long time since he was so relaxed. “If you were ground coffee, you'd be Espresso, cause you're so fine.”

 

The bond was alight with pure Lance, and he could feel Keith’s small, silent gasp,  and the joy that bounced back. Being himself made Keith happy, and that only made him more open. “This is revenge for all the compliments!” He announced.

 

“Only you would want revenge for compliments!” Keith shoved Lance’s shoulder.

 

“Have you been to the doctor lately? Cause I think you're lacking some Vitamin Me.” Lance wiggled his eyebrows.

 

Keith crossed his arms and looked away. Then, he side eyed Lance with an evil glint, “I think I got plenty of’ Vitamin You’, when I sucked you off.” 

 

Lance choked, and rolled on his back to look up at Keith. For a tick he was stunned, abashed... and then he laughed. Keith laughed along with him. Together they shared a moment of contentment. It vibrated pleasantly between them, building off each other, until it was so high Lance felt like he would never come down. Keith curled back up into his chest, and for the moment, everything was OK.

 

It was OK that they were stranded for an undetermined amount of time, and that the ship wouldn’t fly, because he was here with Keith, and the team was alive. The edge of his consciousness began to fade, and the string of red wrapped around his thoughts became wavy with sleep. Keith’s meandering subconscious sent Lance snippets of his dreams, and he smiled when his own face flickered by. He was smiling, it was from only minutes ago when Lance began to throw pick up lines. Is that how Keith saw him? Bright, and with a smile that complimented his face? Lance held Keith closer, ignoring the fact that he was seeing Keith’s dreams, and how freaky that was. He just focusing on himself from Keith's point of view. 

 

He didn’t deserve this, but he would take it. 

 

Lance would take all of them, the entire team, as long as they would have him. In the quiet of the bedroom, on the precipice of falling into much needed sleep, Lance finally allowed himself to accept that they all survived dead space. All of them…

 

Lance’s eyes snapped open, “ Kaltenecker!” He completely forgot about the cow.

 

“Wha?” Keith mumbled.

 

“Kaltenecker, the cow. We left him in the lower anex!” Lance crowded, and tried to sit up. He fully intended to go look for the cow, but Keith held him down with the arm that was around his chest.

 

“How far was the annex from the control room?” Keith asked, not at all flustered by the situation.

 

Lance halfheartedly struggled to get up, “it's next to the common hanger…” He fell back onto the bed as he registered what that meant. Lance counted on his fingers, calculating how long they went without power, “He's dead, very dead,” he concluded. 

 

“She,” Keith corrected, curling back up under Lance’s arm.

 

Lance looked down at the top of messy black hair under his chin.“What?” 

 

“The cow had utters, so she was a girl,” Keith explained, with a unbothered tone.

 

Lance groaned, “Does that really matter now?” He whined.

 

Keith shrugged, “I guess not, since she's dead,” He relented, horribly blunt, as usual.

 

“No tact, no tact at all,”  Lance declared, with no real bite.

 

“Go to sleep, Ace,” Keith moaned, and pressed his face into Lance’s chest.

 

With a heavy sigh that lifted Keith's head, Lance complied, closing his eyes.

 

Ooo

 

Artificial light pierced Lance's eyelids. He cursed the Castles circadian cycle, and cracked an eye open. He quickly shut it, the glare of the incandescent light bulb was painful… His eyes snapped open despite the sting. incandescent? He wasn't in the castle.

There were no windows in the small bedroom. A single bare bulb lit the drab metal walls. That's right, they were stuck on Yeppeuda. His chest was heavy with unwelcomed depression, until he tried to roll over… and realized the weight wasn't metaphorical. Keith was curled up, half on Lance, with his face just below Lance’s chin. Even the thought of being depressed couldn’t penetrate the waterfall of emotion pouring over him.

 

Lance ran his hand up Keith back, and into his soft hair. He was allowed to do this, Keith wanted him to do this, to show affection and be with him. It was something he thought he would never have, had tortured himself over. In the end it had been as easy as almost dying in a power downed spaceship. Which was on par with everything in their relationship, it was never easy, until now… Lance hoped.

 

The room was silent, and Lance had no idea what time it was without a window, but he was concerned that the others might come knocking soon. Lance gently shook Keith.

 

“Uuuuuug,” Keith moaned, and burrowed deeper into Lance.

 

The swelling of affection wasn’t easy to ignore. It covered Lance’s heart, a wool blanket that blocked out all his other feelings. But he really didn't want to be caught cuddling with Keith by the team, especially not Shiro. There had been enough drama.

 

Lance jostled Keith a little harder, “Morning starshine! The cold vacuum of space say hello!” He joked.

 

A long, drawn out groan, rumbled through Keith. He slowly lifted his mussed head and glared. Lance smiled brightly back at him, still feeling free to be himself. Keith let his head drop, and sighed, a full body motion. “We aren't in space, your joke doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled.

 

Lance’s smile stretched until it almost hurt, “Fine, then  Yeppeuda says hello,” He corrected. “Point is, we should get up.”

 

Keith hugged Lance around his chest, “no.” It wasn’t a petulant answer, simply a statement of his intention to not move.

 

Lance laughed, full and rich. His breaths bounced Keith’s head, causing him to lift himself up onto his elbows, still trapping Lance with his arms. “Stop laughing, I can’t sleep through it,” he glared again, but it had little effect. His eyes were droopy, and hair sticking up, he was just too cute.

 

The smile was at max capacity. Keith’s small red speck encompassed Lance’s heart, and it was so full it might have boiled over. “I thought you would be more of a morning person,” Lance pondered.

 

Keith flopped back down onto Lance. “I don’t normally sleep so deeply,” He admitted. “And on earth there was coffee if I did…” He added, wistfully.

 

“Are you pinning after coffee?” Lance chuckled, and gave into Keith’s attempts to stay in bed. It wasn’t much of a fight. Keith’s warm weight was comforting, and just the idea that he wanted to stay like this with Lance was enough. This was truly the most relaxed he had ever seen Keith.

 

“I am, I feel no shame,” Keith announced, muffled into Lance's neck. He poked Lance in the side repeatedly, “Don’t pretend you don’t miss it too, I heard you and Pidge yesterday.”

 

The very witty, and well thought out response Lance was going to say, while trying to wiggle away from Keith's finger, was cut short. The sound of a door, and a parade of footsteps, had Keith and Lance up and dressing in a flash. 

 

Keith picked up his dirty sock and frowned. He tossed it under the bed, and pulled his boot onto a bare foot with a crinkled nose. Lance smirked, he was going to think about that barefoot all day, and it would remind him every time, why it was bare.

 

Keith stuck out his tongue childishly. Then suddenly, his mood shifted. He shivered, and it was more than physical because Lance felt it too. It was a strange static that ran down Keith’s back, and it echoed in the bond faintly.

 

“Are you OK?” Lance asked, resting a hand on Keith’s arm.

 

“Yeah… I think so.” Keith shook his head and blinked. “It's probably just the lack of quintessence thing Coran was talking about,” he assured.

 

The noise outside their bedroom door stopped abruptly, signaling everyone was inside. Lance and Keith  glanced over each other to make sure nothing was amiss, and then they exited the bedroom. 

 

The entire team, plus their three new alien roommates, were standing awkwardly apart in the main room. They were separated by the worn green throw rug, again. Fen and Luse were both looking at Lance, who ignored them, he didn’t want to deal with his new status as their… owner. Ja-Berk was staring at the wall stubbornly ignoring everyone. Allura and Coran were staring intently at Lance as well, probably trying to convey they wanted to talk about him being Altean, one more thing Lance wanted to ignore, for now. Shiro was locked onto Keith, but Keith pretended not to notice. Pidge was looking between Lance and Keith with calculating eyes, and Lance had a bad feeling about it. Lastly, Hunk was looking around at everyone, uncomfortable. He shifted from foot to foot, fretting. Lance knew how much he hated these situations.

 

“Soooo….” Hunk drew out the word, conveying how incredibly uneasy he was. His eyes darted around, and his shoulders lowered. He looked directly at Lance. “Ace?” He questioned.

 

Lance’s heart stopped, and Keith’s presence in his mind sharpened, it poked him in an uncomfortable way. “What?” He forced out, arranging his face the best he could to appear confused. Everyone was looking at him now, not that many weren’t before…

 

“I just…” Hunk leaned back on his heels, and twisted his hands together over his poor attempt to break the silence. “When you and Keith went all ninja, he called you Ace.”

 

That was unexpected. Lance didn’t remember Keith doing that, it was all a blur. He had responded when called, and unleashed in the defence of Pidge, as a rush of precise and deadly movement. A small needle of embarrassment jabbed him, it was his private nickname from Keith, and it felt wrong for Hunk to say it.

 

Keith tugged on the bond, pulling Lance’s attention, and then answered Hunk. “That's just a nickname I gave him while training,” he shrugged, acting like it mattered very little. But the rush of affection that flowed and hummed through Lance, told him otherwise, and helped to soothe the sting of Keith’s words.

 

Hunk cleared his throat, still stiff in the tense atmosphere, “Oh, do you have a nickname from Lance?” He asked, quietly. Maybe a little hurt to not have a nickname as well.

 

“No,” Keith’s answer was quick, and firmly.

 

That was the end of the conversation. They all stood, tense and quiet. Allura was still looking at Lance, she opened her mouth several times, but never managed to speak. Lance let her off the hook by speaking first.

 

“Tonight, we’ll talk,” he assured her.  

 

She released a long breath through her nose, smiled, and began to agree. “I would like-”

 

The front door of the shack whipped open, hit the wall, and bounced back. A large hand, attached to an equally large man, stopped the door before it could close. He was the biggest  Yeppeudian they had seen so far. He had at least a head on Ja-Berk. The new arrival was powder blue, hair, skin, and eyes. The soft color did nothing to lessen the imposing man's presence. His arms were the size of both Lance’s legs put together, covered in black leather and knives. A lot of knives. Lance suspected there were many more, hidden where they couldn’t be seen. 

 

In front of the huge blue man was Dam-Saeg. She had her cane in hand, and her goggles were over her eyes, a small smirk lifted her wrinkled lips. To Saeg’s right, was the smallest Yeppeudian that Lance had encountered so far, and it was the prettiest child he had ever seen. Their gender was not discernible, but they had the face of a cherub. Their skin was the same powder blue as the man's, and their eyes were a shade lighter, edging on white. But their hair was a deep chestnut, the contrast was striking.

 

“Goodmorning,” Saeg greeted. She was obviously in a chipper mood. “I have your assignments for you today,” she announced.

 

Ooo

 

  
  
  
  
****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Upcoming in Part 5! MORE conversations! MORE fluff! MORE anxiety!, MORE world building! And most importantly, MORE about Keith’s past.
> 
> Feel free to chat with me on Tumblr, https://deetsvibre.tumblr.com/


	5. Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING!
> 
> Warning: there is a very short part that I would label sexual assault.
> 
> Because I have no confidence in my ability to convey what I want, I will explain here. This chapter jumps between the present and past every other scene. The first scene takes place three months after the end of the Part 4. Every scene in the present takes place on the same day, with each scene in between being in the past but getting closer to the present. 
> 
> I'm not super happy with this part, but I wanted to get it out as soon as I could. So, please excuse any lack luster writing or errors.

 

 

**It’s OK**

 

**Part 5- Mark**

 

Lance was an explorer. He wanted to discover, to walk until there was no road left. His mama called it wanderlust. So, he left the familiar behind, and broke the rules. The air had a different quality when you crossed a new boundary, it smelled like excitement, and of someplace uninhabited. The empty beach was quiet, and the silence settled between Lance’s ears. It was serene, blanketing the adrenaline coursing through him from climbing the fence. He had always wanted to come to the beach at night, and when he was fourteen years old, he did.

 

The wind had swept away all the footprints in the sand. Leaving it as it should be, smooth, with the illusion of abandonment. Lance walked to the water's edge, and kept going. It was up to his knees, brisk and refreshing, glittering under the stars. But Lance wanted to go farther. He left the arcade, and risked punishment to be here. His mama would never let him go in the ocean when it was dark, but Maritza would understand. She always did.

 

Warm arms, cut through the cold water, and wrapped around Lance’s middle. A chin dropped onto his shoulder, and a smooth voice whispered in his ear.

 

“Hey, Ace.”

 

Lance smiled. His meditation was ruined, and the observation deck came into focus around him, but he welcomed the interruption when it was Keith who pulled him back. He unfolded his cramped legs and stretched them out on the cool floor. The white crescent couch was behind him, and Keith had wedged himself between it and Lance’s back. The massive windows, that had once been a portal between the stark white room, and endless vacuum of space. Now displayed a sea of rust and swirling smoke. It was a clear divide between two worlds.

 

The weight increased, as Keith draped himself across Lance’s back. That was Keith’s new hobby, draping himself across his boyfriend every moment they were alone.

 

“Hey, to you too,” Lance whispered back. The quivering bond reached out for his partner. 

 

Keith kissed Lance's neck, and murmured warm words into his skin. “Come to any huge revelations?” Meditation was the only thing that isolated their bond and separated their thoughts. It obviously set Keith on edge, but he never complained.

 

The cold ocean still lapped at Lance's mind, butting up against the red hum of Keith's curiosity. If he lied, Keith would know. He probably already felt the unease mixed with light freedom that lingering from the memory, so Lance swerved around the question with one of his own. “We're all made of the same cosmic dust?” it was flattery, and a plea to let the topic drop.

 

Keith understood, and didn't push, he never did. “Who could have said those wise word?” He played along.

 

Lance smirked, and leaned back against the weight pushing against him. “I have no clue, but they probably didn’t have a mullet,” he replied coyly, and laughed when he felt Keith’s frown against his neck, contrasting the glow of amusement in his mind.

 

This was a perfect moment. Cushioned by sweet endearment, and warmed by a spark of attraction. Lance wanted to roll up in it, but also stretch out over this comfortable juncture, and let himself be cradled. Because it conformed to him, and filled all his jagged edges.  A second kiss on his neck turned the spark into a flame. Keith’s hands smoothed down his chest, and glided over the edge of his jeans.

 

Lance’s inhale was sharp, and he used it to push out a warning he desperately didn’t want to give. “We can’t, anyone could walk in here.”

 

The red satin that had been dancing along Lance’s senses, sagged, along with Keith, who physically slid to the side, off of Lance and onto the floor. He rolled onto his back and glared with very little conviction. “Let them see, the looks on their faces would make my year.” He pouted, in that way only he could pull off.

 

Lance huffed, allowing his shoulders to bounce with a sharp motion. “You’re the one that said Shiro could never know, but I don’t see what the big deal is,” he pointed out. His hand dipped to the floor, and snapped up his hair clip. In a fluid motion he swept his growing bangs back and secured them. The ends were so long they were beginning to curl up, fighting the clip.

 

The slow rise, and even slower fall of Keith’s chest, was the only indication of his sigh. Silent, and edged with a thin band of pain. “It’s better that he only thinks I have a one sided crush,” he insisted, referring to the conversation Lance had overheard in dead space. When Lance had come clean about eavesdropping, Keith hadn’t been mad, but the topic was made taboo.

 

They were far too closely bonded to hold back their emotions, but that didn’t mean they had to explain them. Whenever the idea of telling the team came up, Keith would shut down, overwhelmed with a strange fear. It made Lance’s anxiety bubble up, and it oozed out of the dark corner that only Keith could shed light on. But Lance never pushed, because he wanted to give Keith the same respectful privacy that he received when Keith turned a blind eye on the doubt and worry that leaked down the bond. 

 

Lance shook himself free of the heavy conversation. He hated it when they skirted around the shadows of their relationship. He bowed down and pressed a quick kiss you Keith’s lips, and just as Lance had planned, his boyfriend smiled up at him. The bond become alight with the tingly joy kissing always ignited, and his body relaxed in the echo of that joy.

 

Lance reached out and plucked at Keith's blue headband, “There’s my perky yep-nari,” he cooed, overly sweet with sarcasm.

 

Keith groaned, and rolled onto his side, curling into Lance’s leg. “Don’t remind me… I have to go to work soon,” He complained, muffled into Lance’s pants.

 

Three months had gone by in a blink, and the team had settled in with some bumps along the way. Every member was assigned a job by Dam-Saeg, based on what she decided would be best. Some of them accepted their place easily, while others -namely Keith- didn’t. Although, Lance couldn’t blame him, his job was essentially the antithesis of Keith in every way. But being a yep-nari brought in a lot of money, and they needed money. 

 

Lance ran his hand through Keith’s hair. “Try not to glare so much. Saeg doesn’t like it when she gets complaints from business owners, especially now that you’re working in Yeppeo one.” He paused and tugged lightly at the dark locks. “And it will give you wrinkles,” he teased.

 

Keith curled up tighter. “I hate this,” it was a whine more than fully formed words. 

 

The hand in Keith’s hair pulled up and came down with a pat on his head, and Lance sighed. “I know, but when you think about it, you're saving the day. You’re the real breadwinner, you’re bringing the bacon home! It’s like I have a sugar daddy!” 

 

Lance knew the last comment would pull Keith from his self pity with a burst of irritation, and he wasn’t disappointed. The spark of annoyance zipped along the bond, a small electric zap of warning. Keith lifted his head from Lance’s leg and glared.

 

Lance poked the furrow between Keith's brows. “Wrinkles,” he warned. A winning smile spread over Lance’s face when Keith’s eyes narrowed to slits.

 

“You are such an ass-” 

 

The insult cut was short by Lance, who licked his own thumb and rubbed it over the bridge of Keith’s nose, without any warning. “tienes algo ahí,” he informed, as if that made it any less gross. But, the faint dot of… something, on the normally pale, smooth skin bothered him. 

 

Keith reared back, “stop!” 

 

Lance jumped forward, straddling him, and trapped one of his arms with his leg. He licked his right thumb and tried again. Keith grabbed Lance’s wrist worth his free hand, but Lance quickly licked the other thumb.

 

Keith turned his face away to the right, “Stop, that's gross!” 

 

“ No puedo entenderte!” Lance sing-songed, blindly and awkwardly rubbing at Keith’s nose with his left hand. 

 

“¡basta... de hacer... eso!” Keith struggled, the words were stilted and awkward, but they succeeded in making Lance stop, and his heart leap. A wave of affection swept through him. Keith’s efforts to Learn spanish never failed to to make him happy, and sometimes amused. Lance chuckled as Keith relaxed under the influence of warm and fuzzy second hand feelings. 

 

“Did I say it wrong?” Keith asked quietly.

 

Lance smiled down at him, “It wasn't the worst… but ‘basta’ can be said alone to tell someone to ‘stop it’. I think you were going for ‘ Deja de hacer eso’. Don’t worry, you're getting better.” He really was. The speed that Keith picked the language up was impressive. And although he still spoke Spanish slowly and made mistakes, he understood Lance more often than not. 

 

Lance stood up and offered his boyfriend a hand. “Come on, you have work, and I promised Pidge I would help them in the engine room.” 

 

Keith took the hand, and used the momentum to pull himself up and forward, ending his movement with a quick kiss on Lance’s lips. “Do you have a raid tonight?” the question was innocent, but edged with worry.

 

Lance squeezed Keith’s hand, “Nope, I will be safe and sound with the Pigeon tonight,” he reassured. With his free hand he tried to reach up and rub the speck on Keith’s nose again.

 

Keith grabbed the incoming hand with lightning reflexes, “Don’t,” he warned. It really wasn’t fair when they could sometimes feel each other's intentions.

 

Lance pouted. The mark was probably only noticeable when you got as close as he did to Keith’s face, but it bothered him...

 

“I got to go, or I’ll be late.” Keith slowly turned to leave. Lance watched him go, the bond shuttered with dislike, and hesitation. But Lance knew he couldn't comfort his boyfriend, or he might end up skipping work.

 

Sometimes, it was hard to remember what it was like when they were first stranded on this odd planet. The air had felt different in their lungs, and hung heavy with metal and dirt. It had been a huge departure from the filtered air of the ship. Much like how the air of adventure had felt when he was a kid, when he had breathed deep the idea of freedom. A false freedom that had betrayed him.

 

On the second day on  Yeppeuda, they had learned their place in this world, and the reasons why. Suddenly their reality was much smaller, the universe had been focused down to a single planet, with different priorities. A pin prick in the whole of their adventure.

 

oOoOo

 

The second day on Yeppeuda started... unexpectedly. With a bang, the front door slammed against the wall, followed by the entrance of a large man, a small child, and Dam-Saeg. Despite the imposing figure of the light blue man, and the distracting beauty of the child, Saeg drew the attention of every occupant. She was authoritarian power, and pride, wrapped up in a small pink old lady, topped with a bun, and supported by a cane. She demanded respect with her posture alone. 

 

She took a step forward, separating herself from her companions. She positioned herself as both their superior, and as the bridge between the new and old groups. “Goodmorning,” Saeg greeted. She was obviously in a chipper mood. “I have your assignments today,” she announced, sounding as close to giddy as her raspy old voice could muster.

 

The room remained silent, and Saeg’s joyous news was met with a thick layer of overwhelming tension. She eyed them, and began to pace slowly in between the groups. Lance felt as if her gaze lingered on him, but dismissed it as his imagination, until red needles pricked his mind. Keith was irritated, and possessive. He noticed the lingering eyes as well, even through the lenses of Saeg’s goggles. Crimson words whispered from the red folds of their bond,  _ “predator.” _

 

Saeg began to speak, a professor to her students. “You all have potential.” She made another pass, and jabbed her cane in Shiro’s direction. “Even you,” she said, as if it should be a shocking revelation. Lance bit back a laugh at their leaders expense, his face was priceless, and Keith’s vindictive satisfaction wasn’t helping.

 

Saeg placed her cane on the floor with purpose. “And, I think you will be interested in the positions I am willing to supply, as they will aid your escape.” She was pacing again.  “It will benefit us both, if we cooperate for however long you will be here.” Her voice was worn velvet, and it served to make her words more enticing. She chuckled low at the surprised faces across the room. 

 

“Did you think me a monster who would trap you here?” She asked, rhetorically. She knew they thought as much, because she was smart. Lance was beginning to realize how many levels of social manipulation that they had been trapped in since meeting Saeg. She had always been in control.

 

Saeg stopped in the middle of the space between the two groups. “I am aware that you newcomers will be trying to leave this planet, and I am willing to help. In my own way,” she offered. And that's when Lance knew, Saeg wasn’t a monster, not in the traditional sense. No, she was a businesswoman.

 

“What will it cost us?” Pidge questioned, they had figured it out as well, and was fearless -or bull headed- enough to ask. Lance wasn’t all that surprised, Pigeon had always been good at reading people. Surprisingly insightful and wary for a sixteen year old.

 

Saeg sighed, long and silent. “I’m glad to know not all of you are idiots,” She confessed, shooting a suffering look at her three original tenants. All of her previous pretense was dropped. Gone was the intimidating stance, educational demeanor, and the soothing velvet of a slick cars salsman. In its place was a slightly grumpy old woman who wanted to get off her feet, or so it seemed. Because although she had undergone a metamorphosis of personality, it was never completely departed from her previous domineering presence. 

 

Saeg made her way to the small seating area with the coffee table, and took the only armchair. She settled into the threadbare, ratty cushion with a grateful groan, put her cane between her legs and rested her hands folded on top. She beckoned everyone to gather before her. Without question, everyone grouped, but no one sat. “I am going to lay an offer on the table,” Saeg began, gruff and tired. “Because I know, just from looking at you seven, that you will stop at nothing to get off this wretched rock, and trying to rope you all into a permanent stay will end up losing me more that your all worth. I can already tell that you're all trouble. But I want us both to benefit from your stay here,” She laid her thoughts out bluntly.  

 

Saeg’s explanation hung unfinished in a moment of silence meant for questions or comments that were not forthcoming. Everyone waited for her to lay out the offer, and so she did. “I will set each of you up with a job, something that will be beneficial for me, based on your... skill sets. In return, You will pay me a percentage of your income, the rest of which you can do with as you please.” She waved a dismissive hand to indicate how little she cared about their plans for the money.

 

Pidge stepped forward, again ‘brave’ enough to speak up defiantly. “Anything we want?” they asked.

 

Saeg smirked, seemingly amused. “Anything,” she confirmed.

 

Pidge shifted side to side on their feet, the only sign of their nerves. “Even if we use the money to buy parts and retrofit our ship's engine to use electricity?” they proposed, warily.

 

“As long as I am paid my dues while you are here, then I see no reason you can’t do that.” the response was carefully worded, but it did not refuse the suggestion.

 

Pidge nodded once, then their eyes fell briefly on Shiro, before trailing over to Lance. “I think we should take this deal,” They asserted, still staring directly at the blue paladin.

 

Everyone was looking at Lance with varying degrees of anticipation or irritation, but no one’s gaze was as intense as Fen’s. The pink man was staring at Lance with unwavering eyes, as if his fate was in Lance’s hands… which it pretty much was. What would happened to Fen, Ja, and Luse if he refused to take the deal? He was their unwilling master after all. He still couldn't figure out how the leadership role had been shifted onto his shoulders, he didn't like it, but he was going to hold it up the best he could. 

 

A red pin pricked the back of Lance’s mind, it was sharp with tense fear, Keith’s fear. He remembered that Lance owned these people, and realized the stakes as well.

  
“We’ll take the deal,” Lance managed to keep his voice steady. He felt Keith relax, and the needle melted into a soft ribbon. Fen looked away, shoulders slumped in relief.

 

Saeg lifted her cane and lightly tapped the floor. “Excellent!” She  exclaimed, and then pointed her cane at Hunk. “You, Hunk right?” Her kaydence was casual, as if striking this deal made them all friends suddenly. The levels this women worked on were boggling to Lance.

 

Hunk jumped and pointed to himself, “Me? Yeah, I’m Hunk!” He sputtered, nervously under Saeg’s sudo friendly smile, he twisted his hands in anticipation. Lance’s hands twitched. He wanted to grab Hunk’s fingers and wrap him in a hug.

 

Still friendly, as if she were dealing with a timid animal, Saeg doled out Hunk’s assignment. “There is a underground technology ring that runs through almost every Yeppeo on this planet. It is a free market, based on merit, and what you have to offer. I haven’t had any real big names under my employment for a long time, you will work with my current team to carve us out some new territory.” She explained softly and waited for Hunk to nod before continuing. “The market is called the Gi-Shu, and it has its own rules, separate from the laws of the surface. It is a subtle, ever changing beast below our cities, that will devour the weak and feed off the naive.” Saeg nailed Hunk with a serious look, driving home her point. “I have assigned you a mentor, but she’s only active in the evening, so you will standby until she arrives,” she informed, softening her gaze minutely.

 

Hunk saluted awkwardly, “Ye-yes, ma'am,” he stuttered.

 

Saeg turned on Pidge, “Little doro-ni, what is your name?” She sounded genuinely curious.

 

Pidge crossed their arms defensively, “Pidge,” they declared, and then let their mouth run away. “And what the hell does doro-ni mean? For that matter, what does dan-iro mean!? Yesterday you called Lance and Hunk dan-iro, and then later called Hunk doro-ni!” They blurted out, frustrated by the strange rules of the new terms.

 

Saeg chuckled, “you will be joining Hunk, and I won’t repeat the warnings. I think you will do just fine in the Gi-Shu, with that spirit of yours,” she commented, completely ignoring Pidge’s questions.

 

Pidge fumed. Lance wasn’t sure he had ever seen them so mad, but Saeg seemed to get under their skin. Fortunately they kept quiet, not willing to risk their employment, and possibly the only chance they had to get off the planet. The potential new tech probably didn’t hurt either.

 

Saeg looked between Pidge and Hunk, “I have high hopes for you two. The Gi-Shu is hard to survive in, and there are three important factors. Supplies, which I have in abundance, due to the scrap yard, but what I have been missing, is talent, and well rounded Zoku.” She didn’t wait for a response, and pointed at Lance. “That’s where you come in, you are a long ranged fighter, correct?”

 

“Yeah,” Lance croaked, off guard, and Keith’s hard edged hum poking him relentlessly didn’t help.

 

“Good,” Saeg smiled. “That is what the Zoku have been missing. With you, the team is complete. You will be training with Kal.” She gestured to the huge light blue man. Kal stood taller when Saeg acknowledged him, and Lance thought he might have seen a small tremor go through the imposing bulk of his tattooed muscles.

 

“Uuuhhh, ok. But what does a Zoku do?” Lance ventured to ask. The pure absurdity of this entire situation made it feel surreal, which dampened his anxiety. Besides, Pidge yelled at Saeg and got away without so much as a reprimand.

 

Saeg looked as if she wasn’t going to answer for a moment, to bothered to comply, but with a small sigh she explained. “The Zoku are for all intents and purposes, the face of their Gi-shu. They work on the surface, to procure supplies their Gi-Shu will need, and to protect them and their territory from raiders. Everything they do and say reflects on their Gi-Shu, so it is important that they have a strong bond.” She paused with a considering look, and then added “It is an honorable position in the lower Yeppeo, and even among the upper Yeppeo, although it is not spoken of there, much like the entirety of the Gi-Shu.”   

 

Hunk perked up, and all his timid behavior melted away into excitement. “So the Zoku are like our avatars… but also pirates!?” he exclaimed. 

 

Everyone from team Voltron groaned, except Lance, who laughed. Leave it to Hunk to break the heavy mood. Lance felt the humor of the situation wiggled into Keith, lifting his spirits as well.

 

“Avatar?” Saeg repeated, glossing over the pirate bit. “That is an apt comparison. Especially since the Gi-Shu tend to turn everything into a competition, including the appearance of the Zoku. The Zoku and the Gi-Shu come up with increasingly unique… decorations, always trying to outdo their competition. They also have their own… aesthetic.” She said the word aesthetic dubiously, as if it was possibly the wrong term. It was obvious she had differing opinions on what constituted beauty. 

 

The feel of Saeg’s tone worried Lance. He tried to covertly eye Kal, and for the first time looked past his blue skin, and the copious blades holstered all over his body. What he noticed, was piercings and tattoos, a lot of both… oh. Was Lance going to have to get some? that many of them? Before his thoughts could slip down a slope of panic, Saeg moved onto Shiro and Coran, who were both relegated to the scrap yard. Coran, due to his age, would be taking on a managing position, Saeg having every confidence in his abilities. But Shiro… well, he would do what he could with his one arm… those were Saeg’s words.

 

Lance was starting to feel a little bad for Shiro, he was having a rough time, and Dam-Saeg wasn’t helping. But Keith was reveling in it. Lance almost felt dirty experiencing the pure vindictive joy Keith derived from the abuse Shiro received, and it only served to make Lance more curious about why he was so mad at Shiro.

 

Keith and Allura came to attention when Saeg took a breath to speak, knowing one of them was next, and it ended up being both of them. Saeg gesture for them to come forward, and reluctantly they both took a step. Saeg looked them over, and nodded. “Both of you will be training with the young yep-nari I have brought with me today.” 

 

Allura looked at the child skeptically, obviously confused about what she would be learning from them. Keith on the other hand, refused. “I think I would prefer to go with Lance and Kal, I would be  more useful fighting,” he asserted boldly, like he always did.

 

Saeg snorted, loud and amused. “That will be unnecessary, yep-nari do not need to fight, or even think for that matter.” Her body language became stiff, and her words harsh.

 

A hot spike rammed into Lance’s mind, Keith's anger burned, and it whipped through Lance so quickly he was left shivering in the aftershock of his own icy irritation. He was prepared to step forward, his anxiety numbed by his indignation, but Keith was one step a head.

 

“My name is Keith, and-” 

 

The piercing sound of Saeg’s cane on the metal floor abruptly cut off Keith's argument. “Your name is inconsequential, and you will be a yep-nari, or I will rescind my offer, and you and your friends will be left to fend for yourselves.” She reached up and pulled her goggles to sit on her hairline, leveling Keith with a nasty glare. “You have no idea how difficult it would be to survive without help, and if you make an enemy of me, no one in all of the Yeppeo will accept you, for fear of offending me.” Her voice didn’t waver, and her eyes kept their hard gaze focused on Keith, boring a hole through him. 

 

Lance believed her. She could make their survival, let alone their escape, impossible. He looked at Ja-Berk, Fen and Luse, all of them were pale in the face of Saeg’s anger, but it was Kal that really drove home the severity of her threat. He was huge, powerful, and probably adept with his knives, he could kill that little old lady with a flick of his thumb. But there he was, scared. His body was tight, and he was unsuccessfully hiding the tremors in his hands that were fisted at his side. 

 

The taut line of red let Lance know that Keith understood as well. The look in her eyes alone had convinced him that she spoke the truth.

 

“Keith…” Allura whispered his name as a quiet plea, and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. They all wanted to get off this planet as soon as possible, and with as few complications as possible.

 

Keith allowed the contact, and took a calming breath. “Fine,” He spat. His rage was still sizzling through the bond, but it was no longer out of control.

 

Saeg waved the small blue child over, and they obediently came to the side of the armchair. A gnarled pink hand rested in the dark hair. “This young yep-nari is Kal’s daughter, and is accomplished in her field. She will be teaching you what you must know to be yep-nari over the next few days.”

 

Keith nodded once, stiff and angry.

 

Allura smiled down at the adorable girl, “hello,” she greeted warmly.    

 

The girl look back, blank, and said nothing. Allura pulled away, visibly unsettled. Lance didn’t blame her, the kid looked like an empty doll.

 

Saeg cleared her throat and jabbed at Allura with her cane. “Since this is ultimately a temporary arrangement, we will have to find a noninvasive solution for those.” She jabbed with her cane again, this time at Allura’s chest.   

 

Allura crossed her arms over her breasts, her back curving away from the cane rudely pointing at them. “Why must there be a solution for them?” she asked, briskly.

 

Sage put her cane back on the floor, and folded both her hands over its handle. Her posture and expression returned to that of a friendly old lady. “The highest echelons of society on  Yeppeuda have  very refined tastes, in their wisdom, they decided long ago that beauty rests in the middle. That all things are better, sleek, simplified, contrasting and androgynous.” Saeg lectured, her tone reverent as she spoke of the beauty coveted by the upper class.

 

Allura touched her chin in thought, and then closed her eyes. Lance watched as she shapeshifted, and it was just as amazing as every other time he has seen it. This time she only flattened her chest, and slightly narrowed her hips. “Like this?” She asked the wide eyed Saeg for approval.

 

A conversation about Allura’s abilities was struck up, but Lance tuned it out in favor of remembering the advertisements he had seen outside. All the the models were, androgynous, clean cut, smooth skinned, with contrasting skin and hair, and jewel eyes set into their pretty faces. 

 

_ “Can all of you change like that?” _

 

_ “No, only Coran and myself. You see we are Altean and they...” _

 

Lance looked Keith up and down, his pale skin, dark hair and purple eyes fit the bill. Plus, his build was lean, with a narrow and somewhat feminine waist… Yup, he was a beaut, and he was all Lance’s. The fire that Keith always managed to light  in him sparked to life, warming his cool waters to a pleasant temperature.

 

The line of Keith’s back shifted, and he glanced over his shoulder at Lance. A question like a clear ring of a bell, shivered down the bond, _ ‘really?’ _

 

Lance shrugged, he couldn’t help it if his boyfriend was hot… and he appreciated it at inappropriate moments. After what Keith had done last night it was hard not to- NOPE. STOP that thought right there, Lance clamped down on it. Keith shook his head, and turned back to the group before someone noticed their wordless interaction.

 

_ “So, what exactly does a yep-nari do?” _

That question grabbed Lance’s attention, and yanked it forcefully onto Allura and Saeg. Keith was also listening carefully, even with his arms crossed and his standoffish posture, much of his usual buzzing had left Lance’s mind in order to focus.

 

Saeg made a vague gesture with her cane, and the child moved to stand in front of the chair. “Why don’t we show you?” Saeg suggested. She reached for a “decorative” chunk of rusty metal on the rickety end table, and handed it to the little girl.

 

The child looked at the object, dispassionately. Then, she smiled. 

 

A chill wiggled its way up from the base of Lance’s spine. Another shiver, mirrored in Keith, came from the back of his neck and slid down. 

 

The powder blue girl held out the item, showing it to her audience. Her smile widened, and pushed at her eyes. She was all tiny giggles, and a sunny face, as she skipped around, twirling with the metal chuck in her hands. Her dark hair brushed her pale blue skin, and her little feet glided across the floor. 

 

Every movement of the child shook something in Lance. The dew of his panic and anxiety had gathered someplace high up in him. Each happy laugh, and every faux smile loosened a drop, that landed on his heart. Maybe if he hadn’t seen her empty eyes before this performance, he wouldn’t have been so unsettled by her fake joy. But he had seen it, they all had. So they knew this happy girl was a lie. A beautiful lie, in a pretty little package. It poked at something deep in Lance, just like when he had first met Saeg. 

 

“That's enough,” Saeg commanded.

 

The girl stopped on a dime. Her face went slack, and her voice silent. She returned to stand on the left side of the chair, completely still. 

 

“As you can see,” Saeg began, dismissively waving her hand at Kal, who leapt to attention. “Yep-nari, are something pretty to look at. Some are hired to advertise a product, other to simply wander a high class party. But there is always work for a yep-nari.” She concluded. 

 

Kal scooped the child up in his arms, with gentle hands. “Come, Ki-Ao,” He muttered, and took her to stand by the wall with him, out of the way.

 

Saeg ignored the father and daughter, keeping her eyes on Keith as she explained more. “That child has been raised since birth to be yep-nari. Her movements, smile, and personality were carefully cultivated. She does not strive for individuality, and maintains a quiet beauty. She was blessed with skin, hair and eyes that give her a fighting chance in this world, one day she will earn enough to leave Yeppeo five, for something better... Kal understood, and gifted her to me at birth, for a better life.” She spoke slowly, as if this information was for Keith’s benefit. So he understood that it was the right thing.

 

But Keith did not agree. He was perfectly still under the old woman's stare, filled to the brim with fury. It was liquid fire, pressing at every inch of his skin, and leaking into Lance. But Keith kept it together, he pulled on Lance’s cold, calm anger to dampen his impulses, and for the first time, continuously used the bond to anchor himself. 

 

Shiro was watching Keith closely, prepared to pounce. He probably expected Keith to punch Saeg, which would have happened if it wasn’t for Lance. Saeg must have seen the fast approaching cliff's edge in Keith’s expression, because she wrapped up the meeting quickly, and left everyone with their mentors.

 

oOoOo

 

Exactly a three months after that second morning, Lance sat in the engine room of the castle, contemplating a very important issue. He had been agonizing over it for the last two days, two entire days of nonstop pros and cons lists… it was hell!

 

“Piiiiiiiiiiidge,” Lance whined. He stretched out across the empty work table he was sitting on, and stared up at the criss crossing mesh of copper wires that lined the ceiling of the once pristine engine room.

 

Pidge was tinkering with a small bronze circuit board looking… thing. Lance had no idea what it did, but it sparked every once in a while as they poked at it.

 

“What…” Pidge sighed the answer out with a lazy exhale, and lifted the magnifying goggles they wore with one hand, while placing the delicate circuit down.

 

Lance rolled to his side looking out over the sea of modified engine parts strewn across the floor. “Should I get another piercing next, or another tattoo?” He asked, completely serious. He poked his ear for emphasis. It had the lobe pierced twice, and one in the cartilage, his left ear only had the two lobe piercings.

 

Pidge whined this time, low and frustrated. “I don’t know, Lance… piercing I guess?” They gestured vaguely at Lance’s shoulder, “your tattoo is kinda big anyway,” Pidge justified their answer, and then pulled down their goggles and went back to work. It was a clear dismissal. 

 

“You might be right,” Lance rubbed his shoulder and sighed dramatically. With the low hanging grey tank top he was wearing, the tattoo was almost completely visible. It started at his shoulder blade, and curved over his shoulder, from the junction of his neck to the ball of his joint. From there it sloped down and covered his entire right pectoral. It was in the pattern of circuitry mixed with altean characters that spelled out “Blue Lion”, and hidden in the pattern closest to his heart, and almost always covered by his clothes, was Keith’s name, also in Altean. But not even Keith knew it was there.

 

Lance let out another, louder, more dramatic whine, making it obvious he still hadn’t decided. When he got no response he began to roll back and forth on the table, occasionally sighing, breathy and pathetic. He was feeling particularly restless, and he did enjoy bothering his team mates, especially since he knew they cared about him no matter how annoying he could be. If almost dying in space did anything good, it was solidify his confidence in his friends.

 

“LANCE!” Pidge snapped, “I thought you came here to  **_help_ ** , not whine!” They berated him.

 

Lance gasped, and clutched his heart. “I thought you would care about how your Zoku looked!” He complained in an over the top voice.

 

The door slid open and revealed Hunk, just as Pidge chucked the closest tool they could reach at Lance, who fell off the table with a hardy thunk as he tried to dodge. Hunk looked between Lance, who was laughing his ass off, and Pidge, who was practically steaming, and cleared his throat. “Lance, buddy. I need an extra pair of hands to fix a line in sector three, do you mind?” He asked, almost convincing enough to fool Lance, but he knew Hunk came to ask Pidge originally.

 

Allowing the situation to defuse, Lance climbed to his feet and smiled. “Sure, buddy,” he agreed and followed Hunk. But before he was out of earshot he verbally jabbed Pidge one more time “I’m happy to HELP!” He emphasized “help” just as the door closed behind them.

 

The clank of something hitting the metal doors reverberated in the hall. Lance chuckled, and heard the faint sound of Pidge’s laughter. 

 

“You shouldn’t antagonize them,” Hunk cautioned. Unaware of the unspoken sibling jabs that Lance and Pidge were required by sibling law to make at each other.

 

Lance waved him off, “Pidge loves me!” He assured. And he was truly sure of that. Ever since dead space, and Pidge’s goodby confession, they were closer than ever.  

 

Hunk threw his arm over Lance shoulder, and began to lead him to sector three. “I’m just glad to see you being more like yourself,” He admitted. His soft edged personality comforting Lance like nothing else could. 

 

“Things have been OK, despite our current situation. The meditation has been helping.” Lance looped his arm behind Hunk’s back, “But what about you? My offer for you to join me when in Saeg’s lessons is still open,” he offered, not for the first time.

 

Hunk shrugged, and his face scrunched up with anxiety. “I don’t think meditations is my thing,” he muttered. Saeg made him nervous, and Lance hoped some time with them together would help, but Hunk always refused Lance’s offers. 

 

They walked in silence down the next three hallways, in an unnatural silence, that rubbed against the grain of their easy relationship. Lance wanted to crack the stiff atmosphere, but couldn’t think of a good excuse to speak.

 

The Castle’s white walls were dotted with brown, bronze, and silver boxes. Some with dials, like a rotary phone, and others looked as if they were patched together from scrap, which they probably were. Each box connected to something that required power, like a door, or a com.  Multiple wires looped into each panel through hastily drilled holes, and even more wires ran out of each box, and up the walls like a coppery streams, to pool along along the ceiling as rivers. Only rudimentary functions could be restored using electricity, no fancy holo displays, but it was better than nothing. Lance liked the new electricity back ups, it reminded him of a steampunk like spaceship, and it would be worth it once the engines were up and running.

 

Hunk had insisted that the kitchen be hooked up, and the amount of power it took created an immense amount of wires and relay boxes. Now the kitchen was more bronze than white, But Hunk didn’t care, and had been experimenting with the food of Yeppeuda ever since.  Lance’s favorite part of the modifications was the ability to close doors again, and in his case, lock them. It meant that Keith moved back into the castle, and the effort it took for Lance to sneak into his room was lowered significantly.

 

“Here we are!” Hunk announced a little too loud, and lifted his arm off Lance. He dropped his work bag on the floor and pulled out huge macgyvered welding gun. “Hold this,” He handed it to Lance without looking, and Lance almost fell over as it was dropped into his arms.

 

Hunk reached up and pulled some of the wires free of their bundle. An obvious orange corrosion speckled one of the lines. He inspected it closely, too closely, if Lance could see the problem from here. He was avoiding eye contact, a classic Hunk defence mechanism.

 

“Hunk, Buddy, are you OK?” Lance asked. Being upfront was the best policy with Hunk. Words left unsaid would become a new poison in their friendship, and in Lance. Being kept in the dark seeded doubt in a person.

 

A low hum was the response, a compromise between omission and lying. Hunk didn’t look away from his work.

 

Lance sighed, and put down the huge gun as carefully as he could. “I can tell something is wrong. You know you can talk to me about anything,” he urged gently.

 

Hunk’s tight shoulders slumped, and his arms dropped from above his head to his sides. “I’m just worried,” he admitted, without looking at Lance.

 

“Worried?” Lance placed his hand up on Hunks shoulder.

 

Rounded gold, cool to the touch, rolled across Lance’s senses. Smooth like a well worn worry stone, it brushed against his mind. Hunk looked over his shoulder, and the bond solidified. “I’m worried about you. That you're just repressing and not getting better… like last time, in the bathroom,” he confessed quietly.

 

Lance felt his nervous energy vibrate through the Hunk’s metallic presence. He was afraid of angering Lance, and Lance really wanted to be mad. He wanted to lash out at his friend for doubting him, but he couldn’t. Because through their momentary bond, he could feel the deep place of caring the concern in his friend. Hunk just wanted him to be happy, and that alone made Lance love him. The waters of his own energy lapped against the band of gold, warm and soothing.

 

Hunk relaxed, and turned around to face Lance. “I want the meditation to work, but I’m here if you need me, OK?” It was an honest offer, and as pure as Hunk himself. He would help his friends, but never coddle them.

 

How did Lance bag such a good friend? He definitely couldn’t be mad at Hunk, he only wanted Lance to know he wasn’t alone. With a smile, Lance reassured Hunk. “I think the meditation is working. It allows me to organize my thoughts without being overwhelmed. But I never doubted that you will be there for me, buddy. And I’m here for you too.” 

 

Hunk lurched forward and scooped Lance up in a bear hug. Their friendship welled up between them, Happy and tingling. Lance stumbled and laughed when Hunk let him go.

 

“This bond thing is weird when it happens, how long do you think it will last this time?” Hunk chuckled as he asked, just as giddy with bubbly feelings as Lance was. Amplified by the echo between their minds.

 

Lance straightened up, still giggling. “Who knows?” He shrugged. They went back to work, chatting endlessly about nothing. Hunk began pulling down the damaged wires, clipping them.

 

_ “I caught Shiro and Allura making out, again!” _

 

_ “No way, are they trying to scar us for life?” _

 

_ “I’m glad they're happy and everything, but learn how to lock a door! Allura can do that!” _

 

Lance was acting flippant about it, but it did feel weird to have someone who wasn’t Keith in his head. But Hunk’s bond was still on the surface, while Keith's was rooted deep in Lance. So deep, that he settled under the waves of Lance’s thoughts seamlessly when they weren’t actively paying attention to each other. But the sudden flood of positive emotions caused the red silk to stir, and Keith curiously floated to the surface. He slid questioningly along the currents of Lance’s mind until he met Hunk’s cool golden presence. Lance didn't think much about it, since he was used to Keith always being there.

 

The chatter stopped, and Hunk’s dropped his wire cutters. The sound of them hitting the metal floor was startling, and Lance jumped back with a shout. 

 

“Hunk!” He yelped, holding his hand over his heart that tried to jump from his body, and heaving a breath.

 

Hunk locked eyes with Lance, ignoring his outrage, and pointed at him.. “That wasn’t you!” He practically shouted.

 

“What wasn’t me?!” Lance was yelling now. He was confused and a little scared. Keith’s satin presence tightened comfortingly, shifting around his mind without regard to Hunk’s new connection.

 

“THAT!” Hunk screamed as soon as Keith stirred again from the depths of Lance’s thoughts. 

 

The reason Hunk was freaking out came down on Lance suddenly, with the force of hail stones. He scrambled to find an explanation, the watery panic heated rapidly, causing the red hum to strengthen in concern. But before he could even utter a word, Hunk began to calm down. His hiked up shoulders loosened, and the ring of anxiety that vibrated through the bond faded away. 

 

“That's… Keith?” He asked. It was less of a question, and more of a request for confirmation. 

 

“Uhhhh… Yeah?” Lance supplied hesitantly. And then quickly tacked on a poorly constructed rambling excuse. “We were training earlier and bonded and it hasn’t faded! Remember when we explained that we have been training? Back on the ship? You know, after we landed here and-”

 

“No,” Hunk interrupted, hard, and serious. “This isn’t like our bond. It feels like he's a part of you, but somehow separate?” He tried to put the sensation into words, but it was hard. Lance understood, he had been trying to verbalize it since he bonded with Keith.

 

Lance tried to fill in the blanks with more lies, it was habit. “Well, you see… Keith and I… we have been training together for a while and sometimes the bond lingers-’”

 

Hunk closed the distance between them and leaned into Lance’s personal space. His curved edges became abrasive, while his eyes began to fill with hurt. “Don’t, lie to me,” it wasn’t a request. He put his hands on Lance’s shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. “How long?” He didn’t move, and Lance could see him searching for the truth.

 

“Since before we got stuck in dead space.” Admitting it hurt, and at the same time it was a relief. Lance cleared his mind the best he could, focusing on the moment in order to hold back his panic. He wanted to spill the rest of his story, about how much he loved Keith, and their relationship. But it wasn’t his story alone. 

 

Hunk reeled back, and Lance followed. He grabbed onto Hunk’s upper arm and held him still, forcing him to listen. “It happened because we trained together so much! I wasn’t lying about that. But unlike with the rest of the team, our bond didn’t fade, it just kept growing, it's still growing, and we sorta just got used to it!” He was half yelling, trying to force the explanation out before Hunk stormed off.

 

It seemed to work. Hunk took a deep breath, and grabbed onto Lance’s forearms in return. “Why didn't you tell anyone?” The words were edged with the caring and worry that Hunk was woven from, and it made Lance squirm. A tactless joke was trying to claw its way out of him, something to lighten the mood, but he smashed it down. 

 

DON’T, DON’T, DON’T, he screamed at his own desire spew meaningless nonsense, while also trying to construct a lie. He had to lie to his friend again. Because he couldn’t possibly explain that he and Keith hid their bond because they were stupid.  Both of them were trying to hide their ridiculous crushes on each other, from each other, unknowingly… it was really stupid. Plus, Keith didn’t want Shiro to know, and Lance wasn’t didn’t want the take the risk… but this was Hunk. Hunk would keep the secret for them, right? 

 

Lance struggled. He felt his anxiety growing, and now he could feel Keith’s worry as it swooped in and around his rising tide of emotion, like flustering red birds. Lance didn’t have a good excuse, and Keith's twittering concern made it hard to think. The cold waters of panic crested, obscuring his mind, and Keith’s little birds. It gripped Lance’s lungs, and squeezed out the only answer he had.

 

“I don’t know…” It wasn’t a real answer, and it was a lie. Lance regretted it as soon as it slipped past his lips.

 

Hunk starred, as comprehension dawned. He was hurt by the answer, or the lack of answer… the lie. Lance saw it in his eyes, and then he felt it. The smooth, warm metal of Hunks consciousness slid away, and when the last bit of Hunk fled the bond, Lance’s chest caved. He held it together, and swallowed a whine that tried to push its way out of his lungs.

 

There was a long, awkward moment of silence, while Lance watched Hunk do what he did best, be a good friend. His face smoothed over, and he accepted that Lance was keeping something from him. Even without a bond, he could tell what Hunk was thinking.

 

“You would tell me if you could,” Hunk observed.

 

The endless stream of meaningless excuses Lance had stored up faltered before reaching his mouth. His breath hitched. Of course Hunk understood, but it didn't lessen the sting of being dishonest with his best friend. Lance didn't hide the tears that welled up and spilled over when he answered.

 

“It's not just my secret, and I’m not blaming Keith, but he has his reasons,” Lance apologized and confessed, and he knew he could trust Hunk to keep the bond to himself.

 

Hunk’s hug was sudden, and cut through the fog of watery eyes. Lance relaxed into the warm embrace, and allowed himself to let go. The stress of hiding the bond, and his relationship from the team was heavy. Now, at least Hunk knew about part of it, and it eased smallest bit of tension. His panic drained, and the bond with Keith loosened slighting. Although Keith wouldn't completely relax until he saw Lance that evening.

 

“You should get a piercing, not a another tattoo,” Hunk advised, completely changing the subject while still holding Lance tight.

 

A small bright bubble formed in Lance, and he laughed into Hunks chest. “The labret one?” he proposed.

 

Hunk squeezed and lifted Lance off his feet, “Yeah, it will look cool.”

 

Lance’s feet dangled, and Hunk kept him there for a long moment. After a while Lance tried to wriggle his way down, but was held fast by the large arms around his waist. After a few seconds of squirming he  tried to reason, “You know you have to let me down som-”

 

“I’m here when you need me,” Hunk blurted. 

 

Lance went still, and silent.

 

“I know, you know that. But I had to say it. I’ve noticed you and Keith getting closer, and I’m glad you're both friends now, but…” Hunk’s words tapered off into uncertainty.

 

Lance squeezed back the best he could, still being held off the floor. “Buddy, as soon as I have permission, I will tell you everything.”

 

Hunk nodded against Lance’s shoulder. “Best friends?” He asked. 

 

Sometime,s Lance forgot that Hunk could be insecure, because he was always so kind, and lovable. It was hard to imagine anyone not liking him. But Lance imagined if he were in Hunks shoes, and knew there was a secret he wasn’t being told, he would be even more upset.

 

Lance put his face in Hunk shoulder. “Yeah, best friends,” he confirmed.

 

oOoOo 

 

Combat training with Kal, That’s what Lance did for the entire second day on Yeppeuda. Long after sunset, when Hunk and Pidge were were away with their mentor, Lance dragged himself back into the shack. It was dark, only a single light was on, and Lance could have taken the isolated moment to get his first real look at the small space, but he didn’t. What was there to see? Rust upon rust, poorly covered by an old rug, layered with broken furniture. He was tired, and would have wandered blindly to a bed, but a single, bright and naked bulb drew his eye. The halo of light surrounded Allura’s silver hair, and bloomed out from her frizzy bun. She sat alone on the couch, facing away from the front door. 

 

Lance debated sneaking past her to the spare room he used last night, but he couldn't deny his curiosity. Plus the door to the spare room was open, and Keith was nowhere to be seen,

 

“Princess?” His voice was loud in the still room. 

 

Allura startled, a tiny jump of her shoulders. She looked over the back of the couch, and when she saw Lance, she smiled softly. “I was hoping to catch you,” she admitted.

 

“Me?” Lance questioned, suddenly nervous. He felt like a child caught sneaking into the house by a parent sitting in the dark waiting for them. 

 

But Allura continued to smiled, and no sturn words followed. She held up a brush, offering it towards Lance. “Yes, I was hoping we could talk…and maybe you could fix my hair?” Her voice wavered, more unsure than Lance had ever seen her, but also hopeful. The moment was carefully balanced, and delicate.

 

Right, he promised Allura a talk. Lance held back a sigh, he couldn't back out now, even if he just wanted to sleep and maybe shower. Hopefully he could do both before Keith also cornered him for a talk that Lance knew was coming. He got a good look at Allura’s bun, it was the same one he had done for her before dead space, and it wasn’t holding up well. With only a second's hesitation he caved, and was walking the short distance to the couch, taking the brush from the Princesses small hand.

 

Allura slid gracefully to the floor, and allowed Lance to sit behind her on the couch. The vibe between them was only slightly awkward, and over all still reminded Lance of his sisters. He focused on the reminiscent feeling, and settled into the comforting embrace of their new friendship. 

 

It was difficult to undo the bun and braid, the loose hair had tangled around the outside. Lance carefully worked the knots apart before attempting to take the hair tie out, and waited for the Princess to speak. She filled the room with endless conversation, all of it avoiding what they both know she wanted to say.

 

_ “Pidge made the most wonderful discovery today. While working on the Castle’s control panel they found the mice hidden inside, safe and sound.” _

 

_ “That's great!” _

 

_ “Yes it is, I was worried they’d perished. But it turns out that I am unable to communicate with them without the Castle as a medium, as I am not directly linked to the mice.” _

 

_ “Well, I’m glad they're OK.” _

 

_ “Pidge also managed to open everyone’s bedroom door, while waiting for their mentor during the day. Shiro insisted that we all stay in the castle tonight.” _

 

_ “I’m sure Keith was... overjoyed.” _

 

_ “He did seem a bit irritable.” _

 

The conversation tapered off as Allura’s bun fell, and the braid unraveled, Lance slowly brushed the waterfall of silky hair in silence. He ignored the small spike of jealousy that punctured his heart, his own hair was only just past his ears, and a ratty brown at that. But the feeling was smoothed over when he remembered the pink clip keeping his fringe back.

 

“Will…” The whispered word rippled with uncertainty, but Allura pushed on. “Will you really allow Coran and I to teach you about Altea?” 

 

It was an unnecessary question, but Lance understood Allura’s fear of losing something she might not have had at all. She wanted confirmation, and Lance was happy to give it. “Yes, I want to know.” 

 

Allura’s shoulders fell, and the line of her back relaxed. “I am glad you feel that way. To have another Altean, even if you’re not from Altea… it helps.” She explained, her voice tight, and her meaning clear. 

 

Lance made a sound of understanding, unsure of what to say. It was uncommon for the Princess to admit to the pain that must still be very fresh. He began to put Allura’s hair into a halo braid, circling her head. The silence stretched until he was tying off the end of the braid and tucking it into the crown. 

 

Allura took a long breath, and turn to look Lance in the eyes. She was searching for something, or working up the courage to say something, Lance wasn't sure. But the rising tension pressed into his chest, and he was blurting out nonsense before he could think. “You know, all five of my siblings have the same blue eyes as me. Which is strange for humans. Statistically, it's very unlikely since my mama has brown eyes and in human genetics… well I don’t think I can explain it very well. But if Alteans have blue eyes commonly it might explain why-”

 

“Lance,” Allura interrupted, serious, with a level gaze.

 

Lance pressed his lips together, holding in his nervous babbling. But his chest felt tight, and heavy with cold, watery anxiety.

 

Allura’s broke eye contact, it was for just a moment, a small flicker to her left. “As an Altean, there is something I discovered recently that I think you deserve to know.” She began to confess, looking to the left again, and didn’t look back. “When we were fighting Zarkon, I battled Haggar and… I didn’t think it was possible for her… but she…” 

 

Allura was agitated, and Lance placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked back at him, up from the floor. It made her seem young, she was young, sometimes it was hard to remember her age. She took a deep breath, and unloaded to burden on her heart. 

 

“Haggar is Altean.” 

 

Lance didn't expect that, he was honestly shocked. Allura looked down at her lap and twisted her hands, and continued to explain. “I suspect that the other mages the Galra use are also Altean, which would partially explain how one lived to make it to earth.” She looked back up at Lance, and he nodded for her to continue. “The worst part, is that I recognized Haggar, I knew her… or who she used to be.”

 

It was as of a dam had broken, and Allura couldn't stop. The reason Lance would find her in the kitchen early in the morning, unkempt, without sleep, unfolded from her. “Her name was Honerva. she was an Altean scientist, and became Zarkons wife. But while researching the properties of the metal used to make Voltron, she unleashed something unknown.” Allura took a quivering breath, the edge of tears topped her lashes, as she admitted her greatest fear. “I think that power she found… I think it’s what’s been keeping her and Zarkon alive. And I think it's what gives them so much strength. An Altean is responsible for the Glara empire’s triumph. I… I just…” 

 

The tears rolled down, and she choked on her words. A vise gripped Lance’s heart, and it was smothered by her pain. He slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. Leaning down, he curled around her and she pressed her face into his abdomen.

 

Shaking, racked with guilt, she stammered. “I- I thought- Honerva must have died- I thought- Zarkon was the one that- that- used the power- twisted it- but- but- I couldn’t figure out- how… how he did it. But now… An Altean could...”

 

She took a large breath, and hugged Lance tighter, desperate for forgiveness. He tried to come up with the words to help, to stem her emotional rampage, that eerily reminded him of himself. “It’s not your fault Allura. Just because Haggar made the wrong choice-”

 

Allura ripped herself away, her eyes sharp and her words barbed. “That's not it! Don’t you see Lance?! After everything I said and did, how I treated the Blade, and- Keith… I’m a hypocrite!”  She hollard, tearing up her voice. Lance reached for her again, but she sprang to her feet and yelled. “Do you know how many mages the Galra have?! How many Alteans buckled, and defected, or were captured and broken. They gave in, they turned on their people… they’re just like the Empire...” her words dissipated in a heaving cry, and she clenched her fist tight at her sides. She was an angry and wounded animal.

 

Lance wanted to walk over grab her shaking fists, but was afraid of touching her. She was overfilled, and could burst. He put his hands up, silently pleading for her to stay calm. “Listen, Allura. People are just people. There's good and bad in all of us.” He tried to reason.

 

“But these were my people…” The argument was weak, and covered in doubt. Allura looked at her feet, avoiding eyes contact.

 

Lance finally stood up. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing, and his entire body shivered with anxious energy. If this was one of his siblings, he would be frank with them, as gently as he could. So, he took both Allura’s hands in his, and ignored the tight line of her body, ready to flee or attack. 

 

“I understand, that you wanted to believe that all the Alteans dies honorably. That they were somehow unflawed. But if I have learned anything as a human- part human, growing up on Earth, it's that we’re all flawed, it's what makes us people. We’re all made of the same cosmic dust, right?” Lance hoped she understood, he wanted to be truthful and comforting. Her people weren’t perfect, but she's also not alone. Finding out the truth must have broken her illusion, the one she used to comfort herself in loo of true mourning. She’s hasn’t had time to really accept what happen to Altea.

 

Allura moved quickly, throwing her arms around Lance, and burying her face in his neck. She took a deep breath, and didn't cry, but simply stood. Lance hugged her back, hoping he was curved and soothing like Hunk, or hard and supportive like Keith, or maybe something of his own, but still reassuring.

 

“When we go back to Earth, I’ll introduce you to my siblings, and you can tell them all about Altea too.” Lance offered. 

 

Allura held him tighter. “I would like that,” she murmured.  

 

Lance rested his chin on top of the Princess’s head. This felt easy, and familiar all of a sudden. Hugs and reassuring words, the motions of consoling a family member, it something he has given and received many times. And right now, it filled a small portion of the void he sometimes felt. 

 

Not that long ago Allura would never trust him like this, and for good reason. But now, she would never take his advances seriously. Lance smirked,  “If we continue to hug, I’m going to say something inappropriate,” he teased.

 

“Lance!” Allura yelped, outraged. She pulled back and smacked his arm, but she was smiling despite her watery eyes. She laughed, and it filled Lance with a sensation of accomplishment, the knowledge that he didn’t just drain people, but also gave back.

 

“What?! I had to, It’s me!” Lance exclaimed jokingly around his own chuckle. 

 

Yeppeuda might not have been an ideal place to be stranded, but maybe it was what they all needed. Time away, time to process, separated from the war, but without the guilt of choosing to leave the fray.

 

oOoOo

 

Lance was bleeding, a lot, and Keith was angry. 

 

Scarlet, the same color as Lance’s blood, was prickly with concern and irritation, and it prodded Lance’s mind mercilessly, while Keith railed on him verbally. “I thought you said you didn’t have a raid tonight.” His hands jerked as he cleaned up the large cut on Lance’s arm. Keith’s breaths were rough, and he didn't make any effort to be gentler, despite his boyfriend’s wincing.

 

Lance looked down at the metal table he sat on, letting his shame radiate down the bond. The table was white, like everything else in the half powered up medbay of the Castle. The dark half contained all the medical equipment and products that didn’t work without ambient quintessence, which was most of them. He sighed through his nose, and let a solemn blue apology float to Keith,  _ ‘sorry.’ _

 

Keith griped Lance’s arm just below his wound, pulling his attention. Their eyes met. The stabbing irritation dissipated, and then reformed. It grew into a crimson monster of worry and fear, and dug its claws into Lance. His heart rate spiked, and sweat broke out on his brow. He was beginning to panic, but it wasn’t his own.

 

Lance covered the hand on his arm with his own. “Keith, stop freaking out,” he said, firm but sympathetic.

 

With a yank, Keith freed his hand and continued cleaning the cut. “What am I supposed to do then? I get back from my shift at work, and then you stumble in bleeding, how am I supposed to feel?” He asked. He didn't yell, but his words were forceful, and a little desperate.

 

Guilt joined the shame swirling in Lance’s chest, and expanded until it hurt. He didn't have an answer, and pressed his lips together as he watched Keith finish bandaging his arm. Slowly, the fear in Keith eased into a forlorn feeling that Lance couldn’t place. He tried to hold back the snippets of adrenalin blurred memories that trailed behind every raid Lance fought in. Today was no exception, even if it was unintentional. 

 

_ The “parlor” was a wreck. Yeppeo Four’s Zuko had crashed through the front window, heavy iron in their hands and through their bodies. Guns fired, and metal clashed. Lance threw himself to the floor, drew a sword and a pistol, and leapt back to his feet. _

 

_ There wasn’t any thought involved, only action. The first Zuko four that came at him was brutally gunned down, and it wasn’t by Lance. Kal’s battle scream rang out, and he charged past in a bloody rage. Unfazed, Lance joined the fray. The next enemy met his gun, then his sword. He crossed blades with skill that would make Keith proud. _

 

_ He gave little thought to the people that fell at his feet, dead or alive. This was his territory, and he didn’t have time to worry about anyone but his own people if he wanted to survive. Yeppeuda had been hard on all of them, but Lance took the brunt of it. He bent himself, wrapping around a life and values that weren’t his own, but he did it for the team, for Keith, and he would do it again. Lance would rather have the blood of strangers on his hands, than ever feel the slick guilt of a loved one's death run over his fingers… again. _

 

_ When the dust settled, the all invaders were gone, except the few that lay still on the floor. Lance didn’t look at them, and didn’t try to place their faces in the fight. He might have been their executioner, but he didn’t want to know. In all likelihood it was Kal that did the deed, Lance still didn’t automatically go for the killing shot after all his time as a Paladin. But Lance still watched as Kal went to each prone body, and stabbed it through the heart, just in case. He still helped Kal strip them of their gear, for it to be absorbed into the ambiguous identity of Yeppeo Five.   _

 

Keith’s hands fell away from the white linen dressing, and pressed flat to the table on either side of Lance’s legs. His head hung low, and he pressed the top into Lance’s chest. Keith’s back curved as he hunched like someone lost, and his hands lifted from the table to wrap round Lance’s waist. “This is so messed up,” he whispered in a cracking voice.

 

Lance placed a hand on Keith's head, weaving his fingers into the dark hair, but didn’t speak. He could feel more words coming. They whispered at the edge of his awareness as Keith composed them.

 

“I should be fighting alongside you. Not standing around… looking... pretty.” Keith finished the sentence like an insult, and pulled himself closer to Lance. He moved his head into the crook of Lance’s neck and fitted himself between Lance’s legs. “I could be watching your back, like I’m meant to do. Instead I’m paid for rich people to look at- fuck this,” he spat.

 

Lance wrapped both arms around Keith, and allowed the bond to skew in his direction, providing warm watery comfort. “I wasn’t supposed to raid, I went out for something else, and got caught up in it.” He felt like he needed to explain, even if he wasn’t really suspected of lying.

 

Keith pulled back enough to look Lance in the face. “Did you go out for this?” He poked the silver stud that was just below Lance’s bottom lip.

 

With a hiss, Lance pulled away from the abuse to his new piercing. “Yeah, and that hurt,” he complained.

 

“I like it,” Keith admitted, and leaned forward. He kissed the new piercing in apology, slow and lingering.

 

Lance hummed quietly. With a small movement, he carefully slid their lips together. They kissed, soft, but hungry. Keith shifted back, hovering only a breath from kissing again. “Sorry, I don’t mean for you to feel like I blame you.. I just-” His words were stemmed by Lance’s mouth. This kiss was feather light, and loving.

 

“I know,” Lance assured against Keith's lips.

 

They held each other, breathing the same air, thinking the same thoughts. Their emotions flowed freely between them, with no shadows. They understood the other completely in that instant, but Lance had to break it, and bring some of the darkness back. “I’m surprised you didn't ask about what happened with Hunk.” He segwayed, awkwardly. 

 

Keith leaned back, a more comfortable distance to talk, but stayed between his boyfriends legs, and in the circle of his arms. “Yeah, I was going to, and then you know.” He nodded to the bandage. “I felt Hunk in the bond, but it was muted? Did you two connect?” Keith asked with a false casualness.

 

“Yeah we did, for a bit,” Lance confirmed, and then choked. He really didn't know how to say it.

 

With a very deep sigh, Keith said it for him. “He felt me there, didn’t he?”

 

Lance nodded quickly, like a child admitting guilt and hoping to wriggle out of punishment.

 

But Keith wasn’t angry, only resigned. “How much did he figure out?”

 

“Only that we bonded, and have been since before dead space. Nothing about us being together” He shrugged with his entire upper body. Keith’s shoulders loosened, but otherwise Lance didn’t feel anything noticeable from him. He expected at least a little relief. “Is it really just Shiro that you want to keep this from?” Lance blurted, and knew it was a mistake as soon as he said it.

 

Keith tensed. His satin presence withdrew, pared down to the the thinnest thread, leaving Lance almost completely in the dark. But only a moment before he was gone, there was a flash of heat, and something painful flickered. Now it only leaked down the thread to Lance, like water droplets.  He wanted to help, and he really wanted to know why Keith felt so hurt. But… he didn’t want to break their privacy, because it afforded Lance the same courtesy. If he didn't pry into Keith's business with Shiro, then Keith left him alone about his meditation. This stalemate couldn’t last forever. One day it would break, and Lance hoped their relationship could bare the weight.

 

“It’s just Shiro,” Keith confirmed. It was the first time he’d ever acknowledged the issue directly, and Lance knew better than to interrupt. Keith cleared his throat, “He said something when we were in dead space, when you were eavesdropping.” He gave Lance a look, but move on. “It’s something he knew better than to bring up and… it's hard to explain without-”

 

“He broke the bro code,” Lance did interrupt, against his better judgment.

 

“That what?” Keith asked, bewildered. 

 

Lance plucked at Keith's headband, and got batted at for his trouble. “Oh Rojo, so innocent. The bro code is like a set of rules for friends. One of the rules, is that friends shouldn’t use secrets to hurt each other.” Lance shrugged, “Like Hunk, he knows a lot about me, and could probably hurt me more than anyone, but he doesn’t, because friends don't use that knowledge as leverage. It's a betrayal of trust.” It was easy as pie for Lance, but he could tell that this concept had never been laid out for Keith so blatantly, and he felt a dawning understanding echoing back.

 

“That's exactly what he did!” Keith snapped, as his righteous anger bubbled up. “He tried to keep us apart, by throwing my past in my face!”  He blurted and fumed, unaware of how much he let slip.

 

But a drop of frigid shock dipped down the bond, and Keith froze. 

 

“Shiro, did what?” Lance whispered. He had trouble picturing their strong and noble leader throwing secrets around to ruin relationships. But Keith wouldn’t lie, and the truth stung.

 

The bond opened for all the emotions Keith had been fruitlessly trying to hide flooded their link, and mixed with Lance’s. Together they took a step towards honesty. Keith swooped in and hugged Lance, the acute impact of betrayal cut through Keith's ambiguous anger. He scrambled to fill the blanks while holding Lance tight.

 

“Shiro didn’t know we were together -well almost together at the time- he only thought I was pining after you-”

 

“Weren’t you?” Lance snorted, the joke was involuntary, a knee jerk reaction to the heavy mood.

 

Keith pulled away and chuckled. His eyes were bright, and his smile warm. “Yeah,” he agreed. He didn't blush, or stutter, and the bond was alight with certainty.  It struck Lance, for maybe the millionth time, how lucky he was to have this beautiful man. To be looked at like that, it made his heart flutter. 

 

Keith hopped up on the medical table next to Lance, and rubbed his hands on his knees nervously. “When Shiro confronted me about my feelings for you, he still thought you and Allura were together. So he dredged up some of my… history, to make me back off.”

 

The explanation was simpler than Lance expected, and Keith delivered it factually, with no outward emotion. But a deep part of Keith shuttered when he mumbled the word  _ history _ , and pain seeped through the cracks of something hidden. But Lance didn't ask for elaboration. He was glad he at least knew the general idea of what happened all those months ago.

 

With a gentile movement, Lance leaned against Keith, and let his head fall to his boyfriend's shoulder. A gesture of comfort and understanding. _ ‘You don't have to tell me yet.’ _ The misty words drifted between them, and Lance knew Keith heard them, and was grateful. 

 

“We can tell Hunk, about us... I mean” Keith offered in a whisper. 

 

Lance sat up, “What?” He wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

 

Keith turned to him, his face determined. “You wanted to tell him, I felt it. But you didn’t because of me. But if you trust Hunk to keep our secret, then I do too.”

 

Lance launched himself at Keith, and they both tumbled to the floor with a thump, “Yes!”

 

oOoOo

 

Lance wanted to find Keith, but he wasn’t sure if he should. The dark hallways of the Castle ship were ominous, the only light was the soft glow of five door panels. One room for each paladin hooked up to batteries until Pidge figured out a more permanent solution. Allura had gone to bed, emotionally, and physically exhausted after their talk, and all Lance wanted now, was to hug Keith. But were they at that point in their relationship? It Hadn’t even been 24 hours since they got together. Would it be weird for Lance to just knock on Keith's door? Muffled feelings mumbled in the back of Lance’s mind, indicating that Keith was asleep, would it be OK to wake him?

 

Every time he tried to take a step towards Keith's door he stopped, his chest burned, and his breath stilled. He let his anxiety win, and turned to his own room instead, ignoring the cold ache of regret. He placed his hand on the panel, the door slid open unusually slow, and he crossed into the darkness. The faint light of the hall didn’t breach more than a foot into the room, the door closed automatically, and Lance was left feeling his way to the bed, slowed by the loneliness that rained down on him.

 

His hand landed on the edge of the mattress, and he toed his shoes off before climbing in. He was too tired to change, and he fought the itch to go about his night ritual. All his things were trapped in the mirror cabinet anyway. He couldn’t put on his face mask even if he wanted to, and that was OK. He repeated it to himself, willing it to be true.

 

Its OK, its OK, its OK-

 

Lance let himself fall onto the mattress, but landed on something warm. He yelped and scrambled to the very end of the bed.

 

“Lance?” A groggy voice asked through the dark, and red flickered to life.

 

The immediate terror of finding something alive in his bed was swept away, and Lance took a deep breath. “Keith?”

 

Keith hummed sleepily, confirming his identity, “Why are you all the way over there?” He mumbled.  

 

Lance chuckled nervously, “No reason… none at all.”  His voice was still high from the adrenalin as he slid back up the bed. Apparently the agonizing choice Lance had been struggling with in the hall, wasn’t a choice at all for Keith. It was so… Keith, for him to just assume they were sharing a room now, subtle wasn’t in a concept he subscribed to.

 

For some people, Keith's slightly off key behavior and assumptions might be unsettling, or possibly invasive. But for Lance, it was comforting. He almost always knew where he stood with Keith. Because, despite their bond, he couldn't actually understand everything he felt from his boyfriend, and doubt still ran rampant in him.

 

Smooth blankets were pulled over Lance, a warm arm came around his waist, and content emotions covered his mind. But sleep didn’t come, despite the half aware wanderings of Keiths thoughts.

 

“I heard Shiro made you come back to this ship, Allura mentioned it when I got back.” Lance regretted the topic. Keith’s meandering red haze sharpened with anger, but also withdrew slightly. He was hiding something, Lance knew that from the moment he partially overheard the argument between Keith and Shiro. 

 

Lance avoided asking about Keith's anger, and instead evaded by using his own irritation. Unknown to him, this was the beginning of a pattern. “I’m not that happy with Shiro at the moment either,” he revealed, and gently poked at Keith's anger. 

 

“What did he do?” Keith perked up, curious.

 

“Remember when Allura and I were alone in the control room trying to open doors?” Lance knew this would truly intrigue Keith, and wasn’t disappointed when the red hum fully flooded his mind.

 

Keith's hand ran up Lance’s back, to his neck, and then rested on his cheek. “Yeah, I meant to ask you about it. At the time you were upset... and also not upset? it was… complicated?”

 

Referencing each other's emotions seemed to come naturally, and they adapted with surprising ease. Lance had at one point wanted to talk about the bond. It was growing fast, and he was certain that actual thoughts were slipping through from time to time. But the more it grew, the less he wanted to discuss it, and the more he just wanted it to be there, unexamined, and beautiful. They silently accepted, and understood it, like so many other things between them.

 

“Oh boy, was ever it complicated.” Lance put on a light attitude, distancing himself from the still overwhelming discoveries of the last couple of days. The disappointment ran deep, and it met a pond of self deprecation, feeding it, and keeping it from drying out. “Allura finally told me what the Blue Paladins traits were,” he began.  “She told me that the Blue Paladin was meant to be second in command. Adaptive, and supportive. I’m supposed to lead when Shiro can’t,” he recalled the conversation.

 

“That makes sense,” Keith’s response was quick and solid, supported by a sense of pride that made Lance blush. “But what does it have to do with Shiro?”

 

With a short breath, and an even shorter thought, Lance answered. “Shiro knew about it, and still overlooked me… for you.” he stumbled over the words, the pain was still fresh.

 

Lance heard Keith’s sharp inhale, and it coincided with a stab of anger, and misplaced guilt. Keith pulled him close, and pressed Lance’s face into his shoulder. “So, I was right all along. You would have been a better leader when Shiro was missing,” he boasted in an overt ‘I told you do’ way..

 

“Wait, what?!” Lance gasped, absolutely amazed and outraged. He tried to pull away, mock offended that Keith somehow turned this into a competition, and then claimed victory all at once. But Keith Held him tight, pressing Lance’s face even harder into his shoulder, muffling his complaints. “That's not the point! I’m hurt and upset, and you pull an ‘I told you so’?!” Lance continued to struggle, but failed to free himself. “Let go!” he demanded.

 

“No, I’m comforting you,” Keith insisted. 

 

The red wave of rolling amusement that hit Lance was enough to stop his struggle. He relaxed into Keith, completely distracted from his own pain. “Well, you're bad at it,”  Lance responded petulantly, refusing to completely give in.

 

“Am I?” A shift in Keith was keenly felt. It was something Lance only expired once, and it had been the previous night. It was as unsettling as it was exciting. 

 

Keith’s hand on Lance’s back slid down and roughly grabbed his ass, pulling Lance closer. The red velvet of Keith’s half of the bond, tightened. It was soft, but also confining. Lance felt warm, and was already breathing hard. He was almost scared of the domineering presence Keith had become in his mind, but he also felt desired.

 

Lance wanted to do the same for Keith, and tried to reach for him, but his arms were trapped between their chests. Keith pulled back, but instead of letting Lance touch him, he rolled on top, and in a smooth motion grabbed Lance’s wrists, pressing them to the bed. 

 

“Keith?” Lance whimpered, fear edging in over excitement. But Keith didn’t let up, he pressed in harder, bucking his hips and biting Lance’s neck. Pain and pleasure swooped in over the nervous fear, and echoed back from Keith, along with a deep hungry red that invaded Lance. It filled every corner of him, needed him, but it wasn’t just desire. The feeling squeezed too tight, grasped too hard, it was desperate. it grew with every hard grind that pressed Lance into the mattress, with every lick, and bite. 

 

Lance was being swept away, and he froze. Keith kiss him, hard and demanding. Lance gasped, and was met with tongue. Keith pressed into his mouth as deeply as he could, dominating Lance, devouring him.

 

Sharp pleasure, pain, fear and excitement, were all curled together and struck Lance like lighting. Keith practically sucked the breath from his body. His Legs kept Lance from kicking out, and his arms were still trapped. His body was on fire, so absolutely overwhelmed by Keith, that his own blue presence was backed was a spect in a red ocean. He couldn’t even feel himself in the bond. 

 

It was too much, Lance didn't have any control, and the realization came with a snap. Lance’s fear won, real fear, it reared up. The cold, shocking panic was rising, and it constricted Lance’s chest. He turned his head, breaking the kiss, and gasped out, “stop.” 

 

As soon as the word left his mouth, the icy panic touched the bond, and Keith stopped. He ripped himself away, retreating to the other side of the bed.

 

A litany of emotions slammed into Lance, knocking his own panic to the side. It was just like the night before, when they first went into the spare bedroom. Keith was scared, ashamed, and guilty. But under everything there still lingered a desperate desire, and now that Lance could breath, he realized that it might not be just sexual desire. For the first time, Lance focused on the bond, intentionally poking his nose into Keith’s feelings, and noticed something. The desire, it was the same as the night Keith admitted he was touched starved, but more. It was so strong it ached in Lance’s bones.

 

The whole ordeal had only lasted seconds, and Keith stopped as soon as Lance said to, but the guilt in the bond was unbearable.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t- I don’t… I thought you would want-” Keith voice broke, and it stabbed Lance with its jagged edges. Something, or someone, did this to Keith, he was sure of it without needing an explanation.

 

Lance calmed his heart with a deep breath. “What I want?...” He murmured. Is that what Keith thought about him? No… this was deeper.

 

Lance wasn’t an expert on sex, or interpersonal relationships, but he knew that the way Keith reacted to both wasn’t right. It had been similar the previous night, and Lance had ignored it at the time. But everything led back to Keith's past that Lance knew so little about.

 

He knew he should be angry, or scared, but all he felt was the need to help Keith, because he knew it wasn't malicious. He crawled across the bed and stopped just short of touching. Keith shied away, it was a small movement, but Lance hated it.

 

“I’m sorry…” 

 

“Hey,” Lance whispered.

 

Keith looked away, his body curled inward, and defensive. “I should go.” He tried to slide off the bed, but Lance grabbed his arm.

 

“No.” He pulled Keith back onto the bed and into his arms, hugging him.

 

Keith was tense, refusing to enjoy the contact. “You should be mad at me.” 

 

Lance pulled him down to the bed so that they were laying side by side. “I am,” he said while cuddling Keith.

 

“You don’t feel like it.” Keith was still up tight, and not enjoying Lance’s efforts.

 

With a long sigh, Lance pulled back to look Keith in the face. “Logically I’m angry. But you know it was wrong, and you feel bad. I get the feeling that maybe you weren’t… socialized correctly as a kid… or something.” He explained, and then pulled Keith back into a hug.

 

“You make it sound like I’m a dog,” Keith complained, still refusing to hug Lance back.

 

“Same concept,” Lance shrugged. “I think, maybe we should slow down a bit, take our time with each other. I've never been in a relationship… so we can learn how this works together?” He suggested, trying to sound as soothing as possible.

 

Finally Keith let go, and his entire body molded into Lance. “so you’re not leaving me?” the relief was tangible in his voice.

 

Lance wanted to laugh, and even though he didn't, he knew Keith felt the reflex. “No, I'm not leaving you… but I do want to know what you were thinking.”

 

“I wasn't. I turned off. It's what I did when-  I don't know how to…”

 

The sick emotion that flared up burned Lance. It was all he needed to know for now, he didn't want to make Keith explain. He moved back and placed a soft hand on Keith pale cheek and nodded. “I get it, or the gist of it. You don't have to say it,” he assured. He would never make him say it.

 

Keith looked down, full of shame, and whispered, “I'm broken. It’s why no one wanted to keep me.”

 

The words were a breath, they quivered, and called back to what Keith had said so long ago. Something Lance never corrected, because he had been scared to admit it. But now, he could be brave.

 

“I'll keep you,” he responded with certainty.

 

Keith stared at him, mouth slightly open, eyes wide and glassy. When he blinked, Lance saw him cry for the first time, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. 

 

Slowly, leaving plenty of time to pull away, Lance leaned in and lightly pressed his lips to Keith's. Before it could go further, he pulled back, only a hair, and with all his courage he put himself out in the open. “Rojo, you seem to have a picture of how you think relationships work, and I won't push to know where that idea came from…” Lance pressed his forehead against Keith’s, and looked him in the eye. “But I need you to know, that I want more from you than just your body, as nice as it is.” The tease slipped out on reflex, but it drew a small hiccup like laugh from Keith. “And I also need you to know that I'm going to want to give back, is that OK, is this what you want?” The question was the same as the previous night, but in a whole new context.

 

Keith's jerky nod, swept away Lance's doubt. He knew the creeping worry would return, it always did, but for now he could be sure about where he stood.

 

Lance rubbed Keith’s quivering shoulders. He needed this, Lance couldn't imagine the last time Keith let himself show any negative emotion besides anger. Fluid, and slow, Lance pulled Keith as close as possible. A strong sense of protectiveness rained down, it started in Lance, and rolled over to Keith, only to wash back and forth. Lance pulled the blue covers over them both, like a protective ocean, and tucked Keith under his chin, waiting until he calmed down.

 

An ember ignited. Not red, but a comforting orange, the same shade as Lance’s favorite color. It radiated from the core of Keith’s mind, shimmering down the bond. It wasn’t hungry, or needy. It was astonished, grateful, and accepting. Lance got the impression that this was the first time Keith truly believed someone who expressed their affection, and maybe it was because he knew Lance was similar to him. Because on some level, Keith could feel it, or maybe he had always been able to look past Lance’s act, to see the damage deep down, and related to it. 

 

Lance hugged Keith tighter, tucking his chin on top of the soft black hair. He imagined cupping the ember that grew in their minds, and keeping it lit. He pulled the warming glow closer to himself, in their bond he reached out, letting his mind make contact with it. Something was pulled taut, as if his mind kicked out a leg, then it relaxed, settling the ember between them. It adhered to their link, supporting it, and completing it in a way they didn’t realized it was lacking. It was subtle, but powerful, and Lance knew that their minds would never truly separate again. Even if they somehow blocked each other out, it would always be temporary. Keith absorbed this knowledge along with him, and Lance felt him settle in, consoled by the development, but also a little reluctant. Lance had his own reservations, he was concerned about his emotional baggage, and the worry shimmied down their link.

 

_ ‘We will work it out.’  _ The russet reassurance spoke clearly to Lance. It was startling compared to the few distant thoughts they had shared before. But it did calm him, because they were in this together. They both had secrets, things they weren’t ready to let go of, so they wouldn’t pry. They came to the conclusion together, without independent consideration, they more in sync than ever. It was a weird feeling, Their mind’s were strings, tried together, they could pull tight, or loosen, but never unravel. And right now they were as tight as could be. 

 

Lance let himself settle in mentally alongside Keith.  _ ‘Guess you’re stuck with me.’  _ The words, half a concept, half language, went to Keith without effort. 

 

Keith nuzzled his face into Lance's neck, all the drama from before falling away in the light of this new understanding.  _ ‘Could be worse.’ _

 

“I guess this bond thing is permanent,” Lance mumbled out loud, still a bit off kilter from the mind talk. He somehow knew that he would never send Keith a message he didn’t intend to. As if this new level of bond came with a preinstalled handbook, but he still felt anxious about it.

 

“We never did talk about it, way back when it started,” Keith pointed out.

 

A long breath, silent through his nose, expressed how Lance felt about the topic of ‘talks’. “We never talked about a lot of things,” he admitted.

 

Keith pulled back enough to look Lance in the eyes. “We can start now,” he offered, and didn't wait for a response before kicking things off. “Because this connection we have is growing. You felt it too, just now, right? I’m not just losing my mind?” 

 

“No, no… I felt it. It’s definitely growing, and just now it like, leveled up?” Lance tried to describe.

 

Keith chuckled, and his eyes brimmed with warmth.“Yeah, you can put it that way. I don’t really know if there’s much to talk about, it’s all sorta just clear now.” 

 

Lance nodded, running his fingers through Keith's hair. He was still blown away by the open affection, and relaxed body language he was looking at. It may have been partly because of the bond, but in the end, Keith only showed this to Lance, and that was special. “We could talk about something else?” he suggested, but failed to think of anything.

 

With a small shrug, Keith complied. “How are you dealing with the whole, being part Altean thing?”

 

Lance smirked. “Better than you dealt with being part Galra,” he sassed. Partly because he was slowly coming to terms with it, but also because he still wasn’t completely sure.

 

“... fair enough,” Keith conceded. 

 

Silence reigned for a moment, and then Lance broke it. “This bond is weird, right? I mean… it’s not weird… and that make its weird.”

 

Keith snorted, “yeah, I get what you mean. From what Allura explained, this is not what the Paladin bond it supposed to be like. It might have started like that, but… it evolved.” He was also struggling to explain. “But I like it…” he whispered as an afterthought.

 

Lance smiled, “me too.”

 

oOoOo

 

Lance was power walking down the halls of the castle, evading wires and stray tools that were scattered across the floor. He was excited to tell Hunk about his relationship with Keith, and also scared. Whenever he tried to imagine the scenario, fear would slide down his back like a cold drop of water. Maybe Keith had a valid point with the whole secret relationship thing… But no, Lance wanted to tell his best friend more than anything. He was just scared of the reaction, and the possible hurt. He had kept something this big from Hunk for so long, that it would be understandable if the big guy was a little upset.

 

Lance slowed his pace, slightly less hyped. Keith had suggested that Lance break the news alone. But maybe doing it alone wasn’t a great idea? A small red flash of humor popped in the back of Lance’s mind. He couldn’t believe that Keith found this funny, his own boyfriend was laughing at him! Lance sped up again, and stomped down the hall to the engine room. 

 

He slammed his hand down on the panel, and the door slid open smoothly, but still slower than with quintessence. Lance slipped through the gap before it was completely open, impatient with irritation.

 

_ ‘But you’re not scared anymore, are you?’ _ Keith whispered down the bond.

 

“Shut up!” Lance snapped out loud as he barged into the engine room.

 

“Ummm…” Shiro stood alone, shocked. He looked left and right, and then directly at Lance. “Sorry?” He ventured.

 

Lance tensed, and he tried to keep his face calm. This was his first time being alone with Shiro since landing on Yeppeuda, which was a huge achievement since it had been three months. The silence between them was heavy, but Lance push words out against the pressure. “No, don’t worry. I was expected someone else to be in here.” Lance waved the situation off with mock flippancy.

 

“Someone that you want to yell at?” Shiro asked with a friendly smile. He put one arm on his hip, but his Galra arm was restricted by the cables connecting it to a large machine. 

Lance wanted to be drawn in by the smile, and let himself forgive. He still didn't know what Shiro had said to Keith, but he knew how much it had hurt. With great effort Lance remained civil, and distant. “I was just looking for Hunk.”

 

Every movement Shiro made was open, and his stance was relaxed. Even his voice invited Lance to be friendly. “He was just here a minute ago with Pidge, They were working on my arm. But then Fen rushed in and said something and they ran off… do you mind asking one of them to come back and unhook me? I think they went to the Gi-Shu.” He rubbed the back of his head with his free arm, embarrassed.

 

“Sure,” Lance responded, his voice cold. Shiro’s efforts were commendable, but it wasn’t enough. He turned to leave.

 

“Wait, Lance!” Shiro called out, pleading. His calm and friendly demeanor cracked along with his voice. 

 

Lance stopped, struck by the raw, relatable, emotion he heard. He looked back, and the vulnerability he saw made him turn to face Shrio again. 

 

“Listen,” Shiro began, and this time he didn’t pretend to be OK. He was just sad. “Allura told me that she explained to you about the Blue Paladin’s responsibilities, and I know that's probably what you’re mad at me about. I just wanted to say... I’m sorry, and I was wrong.” He truly was apologetic. Lance could see it, and hear it. Then, for a sympathetic moment, he felt it. A flicker of black remorse, and it was gone. 

 

Shiro didn't seem to notice the single tick of their bond connecting, he was too distraught. Lance released a long, and silent sigh. The film of darkness that Shiro left behind seeped into him, nudging the dormant melancholy that always lingered inside Lance. “Shiro, I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he advised, quietly into the thick silence.

 

Confusion fell over Shiro’s face, before is morphed into surprised understanding, and finally settled into a deep shameful expression. “Did Keith tell you about what I said…?” He looked at his feet as he asked. 

 

Keith was being eerily quiet in the bond, so low beneath the surface of Lance’s thoughts that the red presence was tinted purple. There was a distinct impression of pouting, and hiding from Keith, and it rubbed Lance the wrong way. If Keith was going to be like that, then Lance was going to take things into his own hands. So, he pushed onward recklessly, channelling Keith's blunt attitude, and took pity on the Shiro. His downcast eyes didn’t suit him, and honestly, Lance was becoming very done with drama.

 

“No, He didn’t. But he did tell me that you broke the Bro Code, and used something against him you shouldn’t have. And it hurt him, a lot.” Lance wanted to say more, maybe even yell at Shiro. But Keith had risen up in alarm, making it clear that he had said enough. With the red hum gliding on the surface again, Lance could tell that Keith was both irritated, and touched by Lance’s behavior.  

 

Shiro took a step back, stricken by Lance’s cool tone. Then, he relaxed, and an unexpected, but soft smile appeared. “I’m glad that Keith is talking to someone, at least a little bit,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I should tell you this…” Shiro scratched his cheek, and looked off to the side, away from Lance. “But I feel like I should maybe try and fix a little of what I might have broken.” He went from scratching his cheek to rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed.

 

Lance was very curious now, and remained quiet. Shiro let his hand drop to his side, limp like the one still attached to the console. “Don’t freak out, but Keith cares about you, he cares a lot, Lance,” he eventually blurted out.

 

_ ‘Well no duh…’  _ The desire to laugh was strong, but Lance maintained a slightly curious and concerned face as Shrio continued. 

 

“I noticed, because I know Keith. Other people might not pick up on it, but I did. And… When I thought you and Allura were together, I might have tried to warn Keith away from you…” Shiro shifted on his feet nervously. “And, while doing that… I might have said something unacceptable,” he confessed.

Lance was trapped between two emotions, hilarity at the overall situation, and panic over finding an appropriate reactions that wasn’t suspicious. But before he could discern how to respond, Shiro spoke up again, with an indignant air. “This is partly your fault, you know!” He accused.

 

“My fault?!” Lance scoffed, offended. Shiro’s wild accusation at least covered for Lance’s lack of ‘shock’ over Keith’s feelings. 

 

“Yes! If you hadn’t convinced me that you and Allura were together, then none of this would have happened!” Shiro asserted, hand on his hip, and dad face in place.

 

Lance crossed his arms, bolstered by his and Keith’s anger. “Don’t shove responsibility for your actions onto me,” he snapped back.

 

Shiro’s stance slumped, shoulders sagging. He was a defeated man grasping for straws. “I’m not, I was an asshat, but it is partly because of you. So will you help me fix it?” He pleaded, with wide eyes.

 

Lance snorted, where did Shiro get the word asshat from? He looked at the pathetic man, and knew he was being played. No one could look that adorable and needy without trying, except maybe Keith. A long, and suffering sigh slipped from Lance. “Fine,”  he caved easily. Shiros guilt tactic worked, since he wasn't wrong about Lance’s part in the entire debacle. 

 

Shiro perked up. “So you’ll talk to Keith? Convince him to hear me out? You guys have been hanging out more, so he might listen if you ask him.” 

 

Lance nodded, even as Keith resisted the idea in the bond. “I’ll try,” he agreed tentatively. Then, without concluding their conversation he turned to leave.

 

“Lance, wait! Get Pidge to come unhook me!” Shiro called, reaching out with his free arm, still trapped by his galra one.

 

Lance looked back and shrugged, “I’ll think about it.” He tossed over his shoulder, and then left. The door swished shut behind him. 

 

_ “Asshat…”  _ drifted in red through Lance’s thoughts, and he chuckled, while shuffling down the hall to where Shiro said Hunk would be.

 

oOoOo

Tan fingers tapped on a fine china filled with untouched tea, and a leg bounced restlessly. Lance was seated in a very pink chair, that was across from Dam-Saeg, in her very pink apartment, alone. His other hand picked at the knitted blanket that rested over the arm of the chair, and he found comfort in the familiar feeling of the stitches. He was clinging to anything comforting while under Saeg’s harsh scrutiny. He didn’t like being here, but like everyone else in Yeppeo five, Lance was under this small woman's thumb.

 

“So,” Saeg began, her voice rough. “I hear from your mentor, that you have good potential. But after only three weeks of training, he has noted that you lack focus.” She smiled at him, but it was dry, as if amused by this revelation, and also displeased.

 

Lance wasn’t really sure how to respond to that. She wasn’t wrong, he had trouble focusing, always had. But her hard gaze made his nerves fray, and he didn’t have a witty response ready. Instead, his anxiety chose that moment to wind up, clamping down on his lungs, and holding his thoughts hostage. He didn't like talking about this, it was personal, often his focus wandered to avoid heavy topics. He had only truly focused when he trained with Keith… it was something he hadn’t really thought about very hard, but now that he did, it was a bit odd.

 

“I see,” Saeg muttered, as if Lance’s fidgeting silence was all the answer she needed. Her light pink eyes peeled back layers from him, and he felt exposed. “I think I understand, at least a little,” she explained, her gruff voice softening. Lance’s first instinct about her ability to be observant was apparently spot on, and she had figured him out, at least in part, from only his body language. The vice on Lance’s chest tightened, and he continued to fidget in silence.

 

“You will be mentored in a second practice, meditation. I find it helps those with troubled minds.” Saeg wasn’t just talking about Lance. He heard the subtext, and he felt his breath return a tiny bit. Here was someone who might understand.

 

It was shaky, but Lance nodded. He was genuinely interesting in something that may help. He wanted to be better, and he wanted to protect Keith from his darker thoughts.

 

Saeg nodded back, and then looked off to the side, her eyes full of contemplation. Lance waited with mounting nerves for her to say something. He also couldn’t think of something to say, not even a joke.

 

When Saeg broke the silence, it was with a heavy tone. “I, will be your mentor for these lessons,” she revealed slowly, as if unsure of her decision.

 

Lance was surprised… and a little scared, but he simply nodded again.

 

Silence reigned for another few moments, and then Saeg took her first sip of tea, prompting Lance to do the same. “So, you mentioned that you knit?” She asked, voice lighter.

 

Another shaky, and also stiff nod, was Lances response. 

 

A sigh slipped from Saeg. “In order to meditate, you will have to be a little more relaxed. I know telling you that doesn’t really help, but you could at least try,” she responded, her words dry.

 

Lance chuckled, uneven, and harsh. “Yeah, I’m just a little uncomfortable here, alone… with you,” he confessed. And then he began to ramble, all the words previously held in by the clamp of anxiety, spilled out. “You know, cuz you apparently own this Yeppeo, the jobs, livelihoods… and people. Like actually own them, and give them to  _ other  _ people. Speaking of which, can I not be a slave owner? NOT, that I’m not grateful, but you know… it's not my thing?” He managed to stem the flow of word vomit, but now he truly knew how Hunk felt when this happened.

 

Saeg pulled off the goggles that were sitting on her heir line, and placed them on the table between them. The hand crafted doily she set them on, protected the polished glass top from the metal edges of the goggles. Lance studied the doily while he waited for a response, who would have thought that lacy table decoration would be invented independent from earth.

 

“Relax,” Saeg reiterated, direct and concise, completely ignoring his rant. 

 

Lance reacted immediately, and took a deep breath. It didn't ease his nerves very much, but helped. Without his team, people to stand with him, or who relied on him, he found it difficult to stand his ground with Saeg. But maybe it was for the best that he didn't resist without a good reason. Keith lingered in the background of his thoughts, his hum was quiet, only a crimson tinted worry, but still stronger today that the day before. Ever since the second night, the bond had begun to grow exponentially. Lance wonder if-

 

“I can see what Kal was talking about, you're already distracted.” Saeg’s tone was dry, and she shot Lance a significant look over her tea cup.

 

An awkward laugh slipped from Lance, “yeah…” he agreed. “I have a few things on my mind…” he refrained from explaining how literal he was being.

 

Saeg slowly placed her china on the glass table, almost silently, using her pinkly to couchon the meeting of the two. The slant of her shoulders was determined, at odds with her  understanding eyes. Lance saw no ulterior motives under the surface when she leaned back and instructed him. “Close your eyes.”

 

Lance did. All his other of his senses went on full alert to compensate.

 

Sand moved, and there was a rustle before he heard her settle back into her seat. “Don’t regulate your breathing, let it be natural,” She commanded.  

 

A soft ring filled the room, and vibrated through Lance. 

 

“Focus on how your breath moves your body. The slight rocking, like an ocean's waves,” She told him, in a gentle, smooth tone.

 

Another ring, long and tapered on both ends, like a paint stroke. It was distorted by the waver in Lance’s body, caused by his breaths. 

 

“Eb and flow, eb and flow, eb and flow…” Saeg whispered, the ring repeated several times, and melded with her quiet words.

 

Lance lost track of time, he was completely relaxed, and his mind felt light, and empty. Eventually Saeg gave a different instruction, and he was following the directions before he realized it, only vaguely aware of how vulnerable this state was.

 

“Think of someplace quiet,” a voice said, distantly.

 

Lance was in his room, on the castle ship. It was slightly messy, but always silent. 

 

_ “Let your thoughts wander, do not direct them beyond my suggestions. Do not look for an answer, let it come. Only note awareness of each passing experience.” _

 

On instinct, Lance wanted to revolt against letting his mind wander freely. The controlled ramble in his head was how he coped with unpleasant compulsive thoughts. But he was too weak now to resist, and so he waited for the first suggestion.

 

_ “What do you hear?” _

 

Distant at first, the thrumming was high pitched. A light pitter-patter, that deepened as it approached. Until it became a heavy battering on the ceiling, underlined by a rolling vibration. The word was lost, no matter how hard Lance looked, the english had slipped through his fingers, and only the spanish remained. 

 

“ Lluvia.”

 

It shouldn't be possible in space, But Lance was distant from everything he experienced, only noting what passed, like he was told to do.

 

_ “what do you smell?” _

 

The strange scent of space detergent, and face creams, that usually dominated Lance’s room, was absent. Replaced by the damp smell of hot sand cooling in a sudden storm, and ocean salt. He breathed in dried up tears of the sky, looking up at the white ceiling of his bunk, and watched it collecting pearls of condensations. 

 

_ “What do you feel?” _

 

The bed Lance leaned back on was warm, and the smooth sheets under his hand gave way to soft sand. The first drop of water to meet his skin was shocking, and then it was followed by a downpour, as the castle ceiling disappeared. Before Lance stretched a vast ocean. It went on forever, until it didn’t, lost in a veil of mist. Like it had reached the end of existence. The cold water running down his face did nothing to cool the hot sand he sat on, it burned his hands, as the rest of him was soaked to the bone. Lance was on a beach, and no longer in the castle.

 

_ “Are you alone?” _

 

“Chiquito.” A kind voice whispers from Lance’s right, so close that he could feel the breath on his ear. It was a nickname he always hated, that he had told her to stop using, and now he sorely missed. He whipped his head around, and there she was, just as he remembered her. Or not…

 

Maritza smiled, but it was frayed, and worn around the edges. She looked too tired to lift the corners of her lips, but she still tried, because she had always tried for Lance. She wasn’t really here -he had to remind himself- this wasn’t real. But it felt real. He was cold, and the sand ran between his fingers was hot. The grey clouds bowed across the sky, just like on earth, and Maritza was here… Suddenly, Lance wasn’t so distant. He tried to only watch, and take note of this passing thought. But he could see the lines on her face, and the weariness in her eyes, they were details he projected on her, reflecting how he felt. 

 

A scream rent the air apart, from someplace behind Lance. It struck him, a sharp edge that slashed against his heart. A sobbing cry, muffled yells, panicked voices, and he ignored it. He watched his sister, but she only continued to smile. Her hair was limp with water, and her clothes clung to her body, but she didn’t react, only watched him. 

 

Her gaze laid a pain gently in Lance’s chest, and it continued to build, pressing his lungs up to his shoulders, and forcing all his breath from his body. He choked, and the pain broke free, meeting his acidic self hatred, fueling it, and rushing through the rest of him. But he faced it, he faced her, even if it wasn’t real, this was someplace to start. He couldn't run away anymore.

 

“lo siento... mucho-” Lance’s voice cracked, and he stumbled over a sob. His chest spasmed, and a whined stretched out as he tried to hold back his cries. Tears escaped his tight grip, and he gave in. “mi más sentido pésame!”  Lance wailed, the words thick with tears, and he sobbed. He wasn’t sure if he was saying that to his sister, or to himself.

 

Maritza reached out with both her hand, through the curtain of mist, and cupped Lance’s face. Her thumbs dried his cheeks. “está bien,” she whispered, it wavered, and trailed off over the ocean.

 

It was what he wanted her to say, what he wanted to hear. 

 

And even though this wasn’t real, and she wasn’t really speaking to him, it was something.

 

oOoOo

 

When Lance finally found Hunk, he was disappointed. Hunk wasn’t alone, he was with Pidge. A direct approach was probably the best, he would simply enter the network room, and tell Hunk he needed to tell him something, that wasn’t suspicious, right? Lance sighed, milling around outside the door. A huge bundle of cables snaked across the floor, and through the door, preventing it from ever closing. Lance stepped over it as he paced. 

 

Back and forth, he wandered, trying to come up with a way to pull Hunk away. He ignored Keith’s drifting amusement floating in the background. On his fifth pass by the door, his foot didn’t clear the cables, and he pitched forward.

 

“AH!” Lance yelped, crashing to the floor. 

 

“Lance?” Hunk called, his voice was muffled.

 

Lance lifted his head, while still sprawled across the hallway. Hunk pulled off his headgear and looked back at him, surprised. “What are you doing on the floor?” He asked, bewildered.

 

In a single smooth movement, Lance rolled onto his back, put his arms behind his head, and lifted one leg in the air. While looking at Hunk upside down, he winked. “Just being sexy~” he answered in a overly sultry voice. 

 

Hunk laughed, and it was filled with fluff. Any lingering stress that may have been clinging to Hunk from his Gi-Shu work, melted away. Lance noted his success, satisfied, as he ignored Keith's unceremonious mental snort at his behavior. 

 

Hunk walked over, and offered a helping hand. “You’re always sexy, Lance,” he assured, with a convincing air of finality. 

 

Lance took the hand and allowed himself to be hauled up, exerting little effort to help. He allowed Hunk’s strength to launched him forward, wrapping the big man in a tight hug. “This is why we’re friends, you can appreciate my finer points.” Lance smirked, and Hunk nodded his head in a mock -serious business- type of way. 

 

Lance didn't want to disrupt their buddy moment, as they had become rare in the chaos of their temporary home, but he didn’t want to lose this chance to talk to Hunk. “Hey, man. I was actually hoping we cou-”

 

“Hey, chuckle heads, get in here!” Pidge yelled from the network room, completely derailing Lance.

 

Hunk has sensed the turn in Lance’s tone, and looked over his shoulder at Pidge. “Hold on a sec, I think Lac-”

 

“I think I found them!” Pidge hollard, completely unaware of their conversation. 

 

“Hunk, I have something I want to te-” Lance tried again, But Hunks eyes lit up at Pidges announcement.

 

Hunk threw up a hand to stall Lance. “Hold on, This is really important.” He turned around in the doorway to yell back at Pidge. “Where did you find them?!”

 

A sigh, loud enough to hear in the hall, preceded the response. “That's actually the problem…”

 

Hunk groaned, unhappy. He half turned to look at Lance. “You should probably come hear this,” he said, and grabbed Lance before getting a response, dragging him into the room.

 

“Hunk!” Lance tried to protest, but gave into his fate shortly after. It must be really important if Hunk shrugged off their conversation.

 

They stopped in front of a large patched up chair, Pidge sat in the middle, dwarfed by the size of their seat. They were wearing the same head gear that Hunk had removed earlier, and it covered their entire face. It was bulky, and made of faded black metal. A massive series of wires came from every conceivable angle from the helmet, the formed a bundle at the back that connected to a huge mainframe. Lance knew that this computer was the main draw of power in the junkyard, and was located underground, beneath the shack. A massive heatsink came from the top of the computer, and attached to the metal ceiling. The first time Lance came to this room, he learned that the excess heat was used to warm the house in the unusually cold winters this planet had. 

 

“You won't be able to guess where the rumors say-” Pidge was yelling as they pulled off their head gear, only to realize that Hunk was right in front of them. They paused and shrugged sheepishly, then they caught sight of Lance. “Oh, good, you’re here. This will save time.” They placed the helmet on their dashboard. “I was talking to Ju-Min just now, and they said that...”

 

Lance was trying to listen, he really was. But Pidge began retelling an entire story about their Gi-Shu buddy, and he really couldn’t care less. He knew that Hunk and Pidge came to this room to enter the Gi-Shu, and that it was some sorta computer network. It made the whole Zuko thing make a lot more sense, apparently Gi-Shi never meet in person. It all seemed very Matrix-y to Lance, But Hunk told him was more like VR.

 

_ “So I was telling Ju-Min about our project, when suddenly Se-Vin barges in, acting all crazy like he normally does!” _

 

Lance let his eyes wander around the room, wondering when Pidge will get to the point. They always got overly excited about Gi-Shi stuff, the huge new world of tech seemed to short circuit their brain a bit. Huge glaring monitors, with curved glass fronts, hung all around the room. They displayed informations about every aspect of the black market. Most of it made no sense to Lance, as a Zuko he really didn't need to know any of this. He didn't handle the technical stuff, he was the smoozer and the fighter in the group, and he was good at it. Pidge and Hunk worked in facts and numbers, while Lance strategized.

 

_ “Pidge, Tell me you didn’t rat out Yu-Sung for gaming when he should have been working!” _

 

The largest screen held the only easily recognizable image, it was a map of the eight Yeppeo. Its spiral pattern was familiar, as the Yeppeo got smaller near the center. It always bothered Lance that the numbers didn’t go in order. Yeppeo Five was at the top of the spiral, and it was bordered by Yeppeo Four,  Seven, and touched Yeppeo Six, which was the smallest territory in the center. Lance thought Yeppeo One would be in the middle, but it was to the right, between Four and Three, and it was the second largest Yeppeo, only beat in size by Five.

 

“Well it turns out that this guy named Vii has the final parts I need to finish the Castles engine.”

 

THAT caught Lance’s attention. He tuned back in, pulling his eyes from the large map, and blinking the after image away. “So, how do we get to this Vii guy, is he on the normal Zuko patrols?” He asked.

 

Pidge sat up on their knees, still high on their discovery. “That’s just it! Vii isn’t a Zuko, he's a Gi-shu. And the really weird part is that he doesn’t have any Zuko. He deals with a very select crowd, and does leg work himself.” Pidge was bouncing, apparently very excited by this anomaly in the system they had come to know.

 

“Can we set up a meeting with him?” Hunk asked, trusting that Pidge already looked into it. But their face fell at the question, and they seemed slightly frustrated.

 

Pidge sighed. “That's where the problem comes in. This Vii dude is really reclusive. He only comes online for three varga, once every five quintant, and his chat is SWAMPED. I checked his queue, and it’s like a year, or something until our numbers up. AND I heard that he always has what you need.” They swung their arms around as they explained, both excited and irritated.

 

Lance rubbed his chin in thought, there had to be a way around this, so they could get off this rusty rock. Well, rusty for Lance, apparently Keith had made it into Yeppeo One for his work, in all its chrome and shiny glory. While Allura hung back in Yeppeo two, which was still nice and coppery. Lance looked between his two friends, their face’s equally thoughtful. “It seems like you found the Cher of Gi-Shu or something, But like how Cher always went back on tour, this guy's got to have something or someplace that he won’t give up,” Lance concluded.

 

Hunk and Pidge just stared at him, blank faced. 

 

“What?” Lance became defensive. “Cher’s popular, and always amazing… seemed like a good comparison…” He crossed his arms, and wasn’t going to back down from his assessment.

 

Pidge rolled their eyes. “As… interesting, and questionable, as Lances comparison is, he has a point.” 

 

Lance shot Pidge a pointed look, and held it for a moment, before responding knowingly. “I wouldn’t judge someone else's taste, Pidgey. Some might say that type of attitude is TOXIC, you wouldn’t want to make that mistake ONE MORE TIME-” He put a very obvious emphasis on particular words.

 

Pidge slapped the arm of their chair, before Lance could make anymore song references. “AS I said, Lance has a point!” 

 

Lance made a smug sound, lifting his chin, “Of course I-”

 

“Vii lives just on the inside of Yeppeo Six, near the Yeppeo One border, but he leaves to go to his favorite bar,” Pidge continued.

 

Offended at being railroaded out of the conversation, Lance pushed back. “Why don’t you just contact the Network in Yeppeo six, and corner him there? Yeppeo one is too high security,” he argued.

 

Pidge stood up in their chair, ready to fight, but Hunk, ever the calming source in a dispute, spoke up to explain for Lance’s benefit. “That’s not possible, Yeppeo six is a dead zone. It’s not in the Gi-Shu, it’s completely dark on the Network… no one actually know what happens in that place.” He shivered, like he was telling a ghost story.

 

Pidge slumped back into their seat and shrugged, “Exactly, that’s why we need to strike while this Vii guy is in One. It’s our best shot.” They let their body slide deeper into the chair with a sigh.

 

Lance let himself relax as well, the tension leaving the air. “So, what’s the plan? Set up a sting in a fancy Yeppeo One Bar and get arrested, or killed?” The situation didn’t seem good, and Lance was starting to lose hope.

 

Pidge scoffed. “No, I was thinking of a more subtle approach.” They narrowed their eyes and wiggled their brows.

 

Hunk leaned in. “Oooooo, like espionage?” He asked, and waved his fingers in front of his face as if it were camouflage. 

 

A soft chuckle rolled around the room, and everyone loosened their body language even more, falling into a familiar and easy rhythm. Pidge sat up properly in their chair, “Not quite, Hunk.” They glanced between Lance and Hunk, to make sure they had full attention. “I learned from a source, that only went by the name Unknown, that Vii is a letch. He goes to this bar to pick up partners-”

 

Lance struck a pose, and smirked. “So, you need someone attractive, is that what I’m hearing?” 

 

Pidge snorted, and swatted at Lance. “Normally, in a situation like this I would send you. But unlike most Gi-Shu, Vii doesn’t like the Zuko standard of beauty. Remember, this bar is in Yeppeo One, this guy's taste run in higher more ‘refined’ circles.” They tipped their head in a -catch my drift- sorta way.

 

“Oh, so this guy’s into Yep-Nari,” Hunk concluded what Pidge was implying.

 

A small shard of disappointment poke at Lance. He had spent weeks coming to terms with the fact that he was completely rejected by the higher echelons of this planet, based only on his appearance, and understood it was all cultural preference… and bullshit. And he had become happy and immersed in the lower Yeppeo’s cultural views on appearance, to the point where he felt better about himself than he had in years. Although, Keith might also have a big part in that, even a months later he still dreamed of Lance, always seeing him so differently that Lance saw himself.

 

“Yeah, he really likes Yep-Nari from what I’ve heard,” Pidge confirmed.

 

Hunk bopped his palm with his fist, “Keith recently got promoted to Yeppeo One.”

 

There was a pause, and then both Pidge and Hunk burst out laughing. Lance even let out a small chuckle. Despite what he knew about how Keith was in the bedroom, he really couldn’t imagine him smoothly hitting on a stranger, nor did he want that to happen. A thin edge of something unsettling slipped through his mind, cutting Lance’s amusement down, but it was gone as fast as it came.

 

“Yeah, I don’t think Keith is our guy,” Pidge’s laughter died down, and they side eyed Lance. “I was actually hoping that Lance could pull some strings for Allura. You and Saeg are buds right? Maybe you can get her moved up?” 

 

It wasn’t a completely crazy idea, and Lance agreed that it might be their best shot. “I will see what I can do,” He offered, But he wasn't holding out too much hope.

 

oOoOo

 

Lance opened his eyes, and feared having to face the worst parts of himself. But he wasn’t on a beach, and Maritza was gone. Garish pink… everything, surrounded him, including a small pink woman who sat across from him, but it all felt far away. The impact he expected never fell upon Lance’s shoulders. Rather, his heart had been lifted from a frozen pool, and tingled. 

 

Dam-Saeg placed the metal bowl and small wooden dowel down on the coffee table, and leaned back in her seat. “You will come to me three times a week, until you can meditate on your own. Then I expect you to check in bi-weekly,” she instructed.

 

Lance nodded. A fogged window was hanging between him and his surroundings, and he still needed to reach out and wipe it clean. 

 

Then, In a jarring wave of crimson panic, the glass of Lance’s disassociation, shattered. The crash of emotions shook him, and everything became sharp, and clear. Then it fracture right down the middle, with a sharp bolt of confused fear.

 

_ “Lance!”  _ The call was steeped in red.

 

Lance bolted up from his seat, and Saeg jerked in surprise. “I got to go!” He didn't bother to elaborate before running from the apartment. His feet hit the rust covered concrete running, the slap echoed through the empty stone hallways. He burst out the first floor doors and sprinted to the shack, then through the shack and out the backdoor, ignoring Hunks concerned call. 

 

The waves of red panic, eroded the buoyant peace in Lance's heart. The link with Keith led him down the halls of the Castle, and right to Keith’s bedroom door. He entered without knocking, and was met with the force of his boyfriend's entire body. They stumbled into the hallway, but managed to remain standing.

 

“What happened!” Keith half yelled, sheets of worry coming off him.

 

Lance tried to press reassurance down the bond, as he slowly backed them both up into the bedroom and shut the door. Keith remained affixed to him the entire time. “I’m sorry, I was meditating. Did you feel it?” Lance was both curious and scared of the answer.

 

Keith pulled back enough to look at Lance, his face was pulled tight, and he shook his head. “No, I didn’t feel anything. It was like… like you were gone.” Pain put soft crack in his voice, and he choked up.

  
  


Lance firmly held Keith’s face between his hands. He pushed everything he could through the bond, reassurance and comfort, shrouded in cool blue.  _ ‘Everything is fine, I’m here…’ _ He could only imagine how scary it would be of Keith was suddenly not in his head.

 

The wildfire of Keith’s panic was doused, and he looked back at Lance in confusion. “Meditation?” He asked, finally clear headed enough to think.

 

Lance nodded, his shoulders dropping from their tense rise. “Yeah, sorry. Saeg thought it would help me focus. I didn’t realize it would muffle our link so much,” he apologized. Every inch of him, inside and out, was coated with a red hum. It held on tight, as if Keith was making sure he was real. 

 

Keith’s eyes still had a wild edge, but he took a deep breath. “Ace, I didn’t know… I thought.” He stumbled, unable the voice the conclusion he jumped to. He took a deep breath. “Without you in my head… I don’t think I could... Sometimes my thoughts don't feel real until they've gone through you.” The honest words were raw, and resonated through the red layer coating Lance, and he felt the same. They wanted and needed each other, maybe it wasn’t healthy, and maybe the bond was the reason, but they didn’t care.   

 

Keith tilted his head, still in Lance’s hands, trying to convey what he felt. 

 

That look always did Lance in, it was unfair. He drew Keith in, and placed a light kiss on his lips. It was only meant to last a moment, a small gesture of comfort. Ever since the night their bond solidified, they had kept some distance between each other. They mostly cuddled and shared small kisses. But the moment their lips met this time, all the concern, and dare he interpret, Love? Slammed into Lance full force. He leaned into the kiss, and Keith took a breath in surprise.

 

In less than a moment they synced up completely, like that night three weeks ago. Keith opened his mouth, deepening the kiss, and Lance groaned. Lighting shot between them, and hot rain poured down, traveling on them. It felt so good, but Lance made sure to keep a close eye on Keith, making sure he didn’t panic. 

 

They stood in the bedroom, kissing. The entire time, a burning need vibrated from Keith, barely restrained, but he refused to press forward. He was respecting Lance’s request, it was written all over the restraint he was enforcing, but he wanted this. He wanted Lance in a way that made Lance feel more turned on than he had ever felt.

 

Something snapped, aggression that Lance had never felt ripped through him, and he was only dimly aware that it might be from Keith. He grabbed Keith’s ass, and hauled him up. Immediately Keith jumped up, wrapping his legs around his boyfriend's trim waist. 

 

Lance turned, and pressed Keith to the wall, grinding against him. A electric wave shot through them, and Keith broke the kiss, panting. “Weren’t we supposed to go slow?” He asked, slighting slurred, with his head tipped back against the wall, and his chest heaving.

 

The words were cold water pouring over Lance, breaking his rough desire, but it settled it into something simmering, and still hot. “Yeah, we should slow this down,” he agreed.

 

Keith began to let his legs down, but Lance continued to hold him up. He placed a gentle kiss to Keith's neck, drawing out a long hiss of pleasure that echoed back through Lance pleasantly. He continued to kiss up the long pale neck, dragging his teach at the end, until he got to Keith’s ear. With deliberately slow movements, he kissed the lobe, and then dragged his tongue over the shell.  

 

“Wha… ah!- are you-” Keith tried to question, but his words were swallowed by moans and gasped. 

 

Each bolt of arousal trailed back to Lance, making it hard to think, but he pulled back enough to answer. “I’m slowing down, like you said.” He smirked at Keith, who looked back with glazed eyes. 

 

Carefully, Lance backed away from the wall, carrying Keith along. He turned, and closed the short distance to the bed. With all the care in the world, Lance leaned over and placed Keith down, then climbed on top, straddling him.

 

Keith reached out with purpose, grabbing for the button of Lance’s jeans, but Lance stopped him. He barely had to touch Keith’s hands with his own, his intense thoughts paralyzing them both. “No, I want to…  like you did for me- for you.” Lance could hardly get the words out, his face heating up, and a rolling wave of anxiety passed through him. Every inch of his body wanted to run, get away before he inevitably made a fool of himself. But he stayed, determined to give back to Keith in a way that Lance suspected he had never experienced… he just wasn’t sure how to do it.

 

From Keith, a return wave of nerves pulsed. Possibly a response to Lance’s fear, or maybe it was a reaction to the offer? Keith tried to protest, “You don’t-”

 

“I want to!” Lance interrupted, pushing through his own doubts. Something inside him, or maybe something from Keith's unconscious, told Lance that Keith needed this. That he needed to feel cared for, to know what it's like to receive, and not just give.  Keith looked unsure, and Lance gripped the small light of courage he had. “Rojo,” He whispered, calmer, and released his hold on Keith's hands to cup his face. “I want this… I- I just never- so I don’t know…” his momentary flash of bravery flickered out in the face of explaining his lack of experience.

 

But a glow of affection lit up the bond, and Keith smiled. “Ace, I’ll tell you what to do.” The offer was closely followed by a tinge of fear.

 

Lance quickly jumped to sooth it. “OK,” he agreed, mortified by the deepening blush he could feel.

 

“Kiss me,” Keith instructed, beginning suddenly and without pretence, like only he would. He pulled Lance down by the back of his neck.

 

Lance complied. Their careful kiss was something Lance knew how to do, and he felt a small bit of pride when he parted Keith’s lips with his tongue, earning a small gasp. The pressure of Keith’s hand on the back of Lance’s neck increased, slowly deepening the kiss. And then Lance felt a grip in his hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough for Keith to tug down, guiding Lance to his neck. 

 

Lance knew what Keith wanted, in the same way he knew when Keith was going to duck or slash in battle. The bond sent their intentions before they even acted on them. Lance kissed down Keith's Jaw, leaving a burning trail that both of them could feel. He stopped at the junction of Keiths shoulder, lightly biting.

 

Keith hissed. “Ace- that's good-”

 

The praise was jilted as Lance bit harder, and then sucked the red mark he left. Bolstered by the intense burn of desire, and their bonds guidance, Lance ran his hands up Keith’s sides, lifting his shirt along the way. When it reached the top, Lance released Keith's throat and moved down, leaving the black tee bunched up under Keith’s chin. 

 

For a moment, Lance admired his boyfriends pale chest, but an impatient mental push spurred him on. Faster than he might have otherwise, Lance kissed down until he reached Keith's belt, and filled with needy want, he quickly unbuckled it. 

 

Keith lifted his hips, allowing Lance to remove the belt and toss it to the floor. Then he stopped, a cresting wave of nerves catching up, leaving him just staring at the front of Keiths pants. What if he was bad at this, or made himself look stupid?  

 

A pale hand cut across Lance’s vision, and Keith rubbed himself through his jeans, letting out a small moan. An echo of pleasure and heady want pressed against Lance’s thoughts, urging him on. 

 

“Ace, please…” His whine was raspy.

 

Lance looked up and Keith was looking back down his chest, eyes glassy, and more full of emotion and trust than they were when their positions had been reversed. 

 

Lance was so gone. One undone look from Keith and his soul left his body. Lance did this to him, and it was the most arousing thing he had ever seen.  Quickly, he undid Keith’s pants, and pulled down his boxers just enough to free him. In the tick it took for Lance to admire what he had just released, Keith’s hands became threaded in his growing hair, pushing the pink clip out and onto the bed. Without hesitation Lance allowed Keith to direct him, pushing him down until he was forced to wrap his mouth around the hard length. It was heavy, and solid, but something about the soft skin, and musky smell, caused watery heat to flow down Lance. It curled his toes, and tightened in his groin.

 

It didn’t take long for Lance to pick up on what to do, and what Keith liked. The reverberation of his own menstrations made it clear. He anticipated every hard buck of Keiths hips, taking as much of him in as possible.

 

“Ace- Lance- Ah!” Keith gasped and hissed.

 

Lance smirked around Keith, and grabbed the slim hips as they rose from the bed again, forcing them down, and drawing a out a high keen. Lance firmly held Keith down, using his leverage to keep him there, and sucked hard.

 

Keith cried out, and Lance loved the sound. It went right between his legs, the bond sharing their pleasure, making it hard for Lance to concentrate. He dipped down, taking as much as he could into his mouth, feeling the pressure in the back of his throat. He stopped, holding that position long enough to use one of his hands to flick his own jeans open and touch himself. 

 

The reaction was instant. Lance gripped his own erection, stroking, combining their pleasure, and Keith bucked up against the one hand holding him down.

 

“Ace!” The name was a warning and a moan. 

 

Everything was white, and they fell from their shared precipice. 

 

Lance’s hips stuttered, as he jerked forward into his own hand. Keith gripped his hair tight and thrust up into his mouth, and let go suddenly to free Lance before he came. But Lance sucked harder, making Keith yell his name and grab his hair again as he finished.

 

“Holy... shit…” Keith panted.

 

Lance sat up, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, lightly contemplating the new taste. He was shocked at himself, but also happy. He didn’t need to ask if it was good, he could feel Keith's afterglow, and see the completely wrecked, half lidded expression on his face. Lance crawled up Keith, ignoring the mess he left behind on the sheets, and draped himself across Keith’s chest. He placed a light kiss on a pale collarbone, and reached up to run his hand through Keith's dark hair.

 

“All that postering and bragging, and you hadn’t even given head before,” Keith muttered. He sounded half content and half irritated.

 

Lance chuckled. The wave of realization and annoyance tickled his mind, as Keith concluded that Lance had been bluffing every time he flirted with anyone. “Turns out I’m pretty good.”

 

Keith laced his fingers into Lance’s hair, petting him in return. “Yeah, you're not half bad.”

 

Lance tried to shoot up and glare at his boyfriend, but the hand on his head held him down, and Keith's laughter calmed him. “I’m better than not bad, and you know it!” He still snaped with little force.

 

The soft hand in Lance’s hair slid to his back and made circles slowly. “The best I’ve had,” Keith agreed quietly.

 

“Really?” Lance hadn’t expected that, and something about Keith felt… sad. He was sad that Lance was good? Or maybe because all the other… weren't… how many-? No, Lance denied, trying not to make assumptions… Don’t think about it.

 

Keith didn’t say anything, but Lance felt him nod with the hand still in the dark hair. He wanted to just take the compliment, but it felt wrong, and he could tell that Keith was aware that his words and emotions didn’t line up. “Isn’t… that good?” Lance whispered, with the shadow of self consciousness creeping up.

 

The melancholy began to shift, and transform, as the sadness slipped beneath the surface, leaving calm waters of happy contentment. The last ring of ripples faded, and a glassy pond of hope was in its wake. “It’s very good… you, make me happy,” Keith confessed, wrapping both his arms around Lance’s shoulders.

 

Lance decided to ignore the strange downcast from before, and dipped into the pond along with Keith, smiling. “Me too.”

  
  
  


oOoOo

 

Approaching Saeg, was like wandering into a tempermental lions den. Lance was never sure if he was going to be nuzzled or eaten. But today his reception wasn’t important, only the end result mattered, and just as Lance predicted, the request to move Allura up to Yeppeo one was denied, rather harshly. Saeg refused to even give a reason, but Lance suspected that her hands were tied by some higher power, not that he would ever say that to her face. Implying that Saeg wasn’t the top rung on this planet tended to rub her the wrong way. 

 

The rejection left Lance wandering down the halls of the apartment complex, shuffling his feet. All he was missing were some slippers and robe, and he would look like he belonged in a hospital or something. Lance twisted his new piercing, and winced. It hurt more than the bandaged cut on his arm, but he kept twisting it as he walked, letting the pain sharpen his mind. He needed to pull himself up from this day of failure. He couldn’t even get Hunk alone for a talk…

 

A long breath lifted his shoulders, and they dropped in a sigh. He better get to the house and meet with the others. He reached out and prodded Keith, but got little response, he must already be there. Outside the backdoor, Lance stopped. He shimmied, wiggled his hips and shook out his arms, in order to shrug off the last remains of his bad mood. With the focus of his meditation he pushed the negative thoughts to the back of his mind, and felt them slid down like ice cream on a hot day.   

 

With a bight and confident stride, Lance entered the room. The door swung shut behind him with a long creak, and everyone, including their three Yeppeadian roommates looked at him expectantly.

 

“NOPE!” He announced, with hands on his hips and a cocky smile on his face. 

 

Pidge crossed their arms and glared at Lance, unimpressed by his entrance. “Did you even try to explain to Saeg-”

 

Lance sagged, and waved his hand dismissively, interrupting. “Listen Pidge, if you want to go give it a shot, you are welcome to talk to Saeg yourself,” he offered, knowing that it would not be accepted.

 

Pidge groaned. It was well known that Saeg only opened her door on off hours for Lance, and just like everyone else, Pidge was a little scared of the old lady. Not that they would ever admit it. 

 

Allura gasped. “Lance, you’re arm,” she drew attention to the bandage.

 

Lance glance down at it, and rubbed it with his other hand. “It’s nothing, just a little raid from Yeppeo four, those tasteless jerks tried to take down the piercing shop,” he explained casually. He never wanted to worry the team, but the unexpected raids were increasing in frequency. 

 

“Didn’t they hit the tattoo place last week?” Hunk asked, concerned.

 

Lance nodded. “Yeah, they're really pushing it. But luckily Kal got out OK.” 

 

The mood drifted south of serious, and Hunk tried to lighten it, as was his way. “Your new piercing looks good!” He tried, but fell flat.

 

“Thanks…” Lance replied, equally flat. 

 

A silence fell, and Lance noticed an important member of the team was missing. The most important in his opinion. “Where’s Keith?” He asked. 

 

No one stepped forward with an answer, and Lance still felt as if their minds were farther apart than normal. With a little applied focus, he realized what was happening… Keith was asleep. 

 

_ “YO, Rojo!”  _  The equivalent of a mental shove was forced down the bond, and ricocheted back shock and indignation, along with the stomach flipping sensation of falling, and Lance chuckled. Keith probably rolled out of bed in surprise.

 

Everyone was looking at Lance. Laughing in a completely silent room was a bit… odd. He shrugged. “We should probably give Keith a few minutes to get here,” he said, as if he hadn’t just laughed out loud like a crazy person.

 

_ “What the fuck, ACE!” _

 

“What are we all meeting here for anyway,” Luce asked, with crossed arms and a tilted stance. As usual he sounded like a teenager dragged to a family meeting.

 

A loud smack, and Luce was pitched forward by the force of Ja-Berks slap to the back of his head. “Watch ya tone,” he chastised.

 

_ “You’re late to the team meeting, Rojo. Get your cute ass outta bed.” _

 

Lance took a seat on the couch next to Allura. “We’re strategizing, apparently there is a very hard to find Gi-shu that has somethings we need to fix the Castle.” He glanced at the Princess. “We need someone in Yeppeo one, and I was hoping Saeg would move you up, but she said no.” He slumped back into the couch.

 

_ “You didn’t need to push me so hard...” _ Keith was giving the impression of pouting.  

 

Lance relented, never was he able to resist his boyfriends pout.  _ “Sorry, babe.” _

 

“Isn’t Keith already in Yeppeo one, I heard he was quickly climbing the Yep-nari ranks there.” Allura questioned, tapping her chin.

 

“This job isn't really suited for Keith's… skill set,” Pidge asserted. One hand on their hip and the other raised with a pointed finger.

 

Coran pushed off from the wall he was leaning in to join the conversation, wiping his greece covered hands on his patched overalls. “Skill set? What do you mean number-”

 

“ **Skill set** ,” Pidge emphasized, wiggling their eyebrows.

 

“Ah…” Coran understood.

 

Everyone else looked baffled. Hunk sighed, it was never his style to be indirect. “The guy we are trying to contact... is a big perv,” he explained, with arms wide to express just how big. “And has a taste for Yep-nari.” He glanced at Allura, sheepish. “The only places he's known to be regularly, is a high end bar in Yeppeo One, and his hideout in Yeppeo Six.” Realization dawned for everyone else after the straightforward explanation.

 

_ “Apology accepted, I guess.” _ Keith replied as his presence arrived outside the door.

 

The creak of the door opening wasn’t enough to drown out Luce’s loud and tackless conclusion. “So I guess you have no choice but to send Keith to seduce this elusive pervert.” 

 

“What…?” Keith said, A small sound that almost didn't form a word, but it blanketed the room in silence. The door slipped from Keith’s fingers and fell closed with a slap. 

 

Lance wasn’t sure what he felt from the bond. It was like slipping out of a warm bed and touching the cold floor. Only Lance could feel the tension, no one else seemed aware, most obviously Pidge, who burst out laughing. “Keith?~ omg my god, we can’t send Keith~ can you imagine him~ him trying to~” They clutched their stomach, bent over, trying to catch their breath. 

 

With a fake smile to cover the shiver in his thoughts, Keith chuckled, prompting everyone to join. Except Shiro. Lance watched Shiro’s eyes grow dark, as if he was struggling with a difficult decision, and then he cut through the rolling laughter with a sharp tone. “Keith, should do it,” he declared.

 

Lance wasn’t sure if Shiro’s pointed words were aimed at Keith, or at himself, but he seemed to hate his own suggestion. Everyone abruptly quitted, and a breath of disbelief escaped Keith. But Lance felt what was really happening, something cold grew in the bond, and for the first time it wasn’t from Lance. Keith plummeted, and his usually hot presence became so cold, it burned.

 

“Don’t be silly, Shiro!” Allura said lightly. “This isn’t Keith's strong suit,” she reasoned.

 

Shiro responded, with no sign of the soft edge he normally displayed towards her. “We need these parts for the Castle, to get off this planet. It’s been three months, and there’s a war is still going on. Keith can do this,” he insisted. 

 

Shiro wasn’t wrong. The war was still there, perched above them out of reach, but looming. They were responsible for protecting the universe, and yet they were trapped. But even still, Lance couldn’t let this happen. “No.” The word rolled through the room, commanding even without volume, and backed by all the burning fear that rolled from Keith to Lance. 

 

Shiro didn't back down, he stood his ground and grappled for his position as leader in a way he hadn't since becoming stranded. “Lance, we need to rejoin the war. And I know Keith can do this. There will be no argument.”

 

Each word pierced Keith, and through him they painfully prodded Lance, but Keith stayed quiet, frozen. Lance didn't have the full picture, but he was putting it together. What Keith was hiding, why he struggled to be truly intimate, and what Shiro used to hurt him in dead space,  _ “...He’s not one of your marks!”  _ is what he had said to Keith.

 

Lance stood up, and was between Shiro and Keith in an instant. His first were clench at his sides, and his teeth set on edge, so overwhelmed with protecting Keith that his own hesitance to confront was lost. “NO,” He barked, and gave no explanation for his stark defiance, he wasn’t even sure if he knew the truth, but he knew what he felt from Keith. He set a frigid glare on Shiro. 

 

Shocked silence followed, no one had seen Lance this angry since Pidge was almost murdered, and no one expected it in defence of Keith. But the escalation of the moment distracted from that small fact. Shiro began to cross the room, determined to get in Lance’s face, undeterred by the cold gaze fixed on him. But a large hand on Shiro’s shoulder stopped him in his tracks, sending a ripple of surprise through the room. 

 

Hunk’s friendly eyes, and smooth corners conquered the atmosphere. He looked from the suspiciously quiet Keith, and then to Lance, before settling his eyes on Shiro again. “I don’t think Keith should do it either,” he commented, in a cool tone that was at odds with his warm demeanor.

 

Lance relaxed his tight fists, Hunk knew about the bond, and he was smart enough to put together what was happening. He crossed his arms to hide his hands that were shaking with rage. 

 

“Why don’t we try and conner target in Yeppeo Six instead,” Coran offered, hoping for a peaceful compromise. 

 

Before Pidge could put forward any of their reasons, Fen spoke up. “No one but Vii goes in and out of Yeppeo six, I assume he’s your mark.” he was eyeing Lance warily, still on edge when ever he was even slightly irritated. 

 

“You know who Vii is?” Pidge asked, surprised.

 

Ja-Berk snorted. “Evrah one knows who Vii is,” he asserted.

 

“Yeah,” Luse added, snottily. “Just don’t say his name in front of Dam-Saeg, she hates him. Cuz she knows he hold more influence than her, and he knows it too.”  

 

Luse ducked when Ja tried to swat at him again. “Don’t go sayin’ thin’ that will get you dead!”

 

Lance took this distraction to glance over his shoulder at Keith. His skin was pale, and a little clammy, but he was taking deep breaths, and the bond was simmering down a little. Lance turned back to the group, “That explains Saeg’s outright refusal to help, wish I had known before I brought Vii up.” He shrugged.

 

“But, why does no one go into Yeppeo Six, except this Vii character?” Coran asked, determined to find a solution that kept the peace.

 

“Well, No one really knows what goes on in there, or if anyone lives there. But story’s say that it’s where the great suppression began,” Fen explained, his mood dampened by the topic. 

Luse danced out of Ja’s range, and chipped in what he knew. “Yeah, there's no power there, and nothing works, not even electricity. Only mechanical machines. So if you go in, there’s no communicating with anyone outside! It’s the perfect place for Vii to hide all his valuable items.” He bounced a bit, excited by the topic rather than cautious.

 

“Listen,” Fen overshadow Luce’s excitement with a solemn warning. “Don’t try and raid Yeppeo six. People don’t come back from there. Its rumored, that since the quintessence suppression started there, the field is so strong that it kills you. It’s said that Vii used his Zuko to find the only safe spot, getting them all killed, which is why Zuko won't work for him anymore.”  

 

“Dark…” Pidge mumbled.

 

Coran moved farther from the wall. “If it’s that dangerous… I don’t think we should send anyone there.” He looked at every team member, even the new ones, with affection and sorrow. “I don’t want to lose anyone else.” He didn’t need to explain, they all knew what he meant. 

 

A tight velvet grip slid down Lance’s back, a mental sensation of fear he still didn't understand. But, it was backed by strong affection for Coran, and determination. Lance figured out what was going to happen just a moment to late, he was mid turn when Keith stepped out from behind him.

 

“I’ll do it,” his voice was steady, unlike his hands that he hid in his pockets, but Lance could see them shake.  

 

Shiro locked eyes with him, it might have been the first direct contact they made in all of the three months they have been here. Something passed between them, an understanding. “You know what's at stake here.”

 

Keith nodded. Accepting, but still angry. Lance was sure that Shiro volunteering him for this mission didn’t help their relationship. 

 

“Uh,” Pidge awkwardly interjected themself into the moment. “You won’t actually have to sleep with Vii, just so you know, we only need to get him to sell us the parts,” they assured.

 

Keith looked around Shiro at them, brow raised. “I wouldn’t have agreed if that was the case…” he deadpanned.

 

The cold fear still ran deep, but Keith was struggling to hold himself above it, using Lance as a float. He wasn’t going to tell Keith what he could and couldn’t do, But he didn't have to like it, and he didn’t. He was going to keep close tabs on Keith during this mission.  With a resigned sigh Lance asked, “When’s the next time Vii is at the bar?”

 

“In a week, so we should get planning,” Pidge answered, rubbing their hands together.

 

“Alright team, let's begin.” Shrio fell back into his leader role as everyone began to divy up the work. Communication, camera hacking, recon, ect.

 

_ “I’m OK,” _ With red rimmed reassurance Keith tried to comfort Lance, but it was clearly a lie. 

 

Lance glanced at Keith.  _ “I won’t tell you not to do this, but…”  _ He wanted to tell him not to do it, they both knew.

 

_ “Just, be with me, and everything will be fine.”  _ Keith was comforting himself as much as he was Lance. His thoughts, and his feelings were misaligned. That was something Lance could understand. He often felt worried that Keith would leave, or become disinterested, even when he logically knew that would never happen. It was a disconnection that Keith was aware of, and accepted, even as he tried to dissuade it. Now it was Lance’s turn to be supportive, despite the misconnection.

 

_ “Always, you couldn’t shake me if you tried.” _

 

oOoOo

 

In the distance, through the rain, red and blue flashed. The lights bloomed through the hot mist on the moonless night, so bright Lance could see it from the beach behind his house. He shouldn’t have broken the rules. His freedom, his adventure, it had too high a price. The damp air carried the scent of salt, and nothing else. Lance breathed deep, and watched the curling mist rise from the cooling sand, until it dissipated into the dark sky, just like him. 

 

They would find her, he was certain. He made a promise to himself, one that would be broken on this same beach, under the hot sun.

 

Smoke curls twisted, reaching for the grey sky. Lance watched through the ceiling high windows, laying on his back in the observation deck with his arms behind his head, slowly rising from his meditation. His new tattoo throbbed under the bandage, and his heart beat a slow rhythm, unconstricted by the metal bands of his anxiety. He felt untethered, floating away without the weight of his fears, like he usually did right after meditating. The sun was setting, and the approaching night was held up by the neon glow of the many advertisements dotting the rusted skyline. 

 

The sight outside was familiar. After two months, -two very hard months- Lance had the landscape of this view imprinted in his mind. The idealistic Lance from the past was gone, squeezed out of him by the hard hold this world had on his fate. But somehow, losing the innocence that was still buried under all his pain and guilt, was freeing. He was still upbeat when he wasn’t berating himself, and Keith filled in many of the gaps he was still exploring in himself. Everything wasn’t OK, the topic of his meditation was still troubling, but he was good enough.

 

As long as Keith was supporting him, and their bond was strong, he could keep going. 

 

As if summoned by Lance’s thoughts, Keith wandered into the room. His red hum buzzed brightly as he approached, and Lance sat up, careful not to pull at his new tattoo. Keith sat on the floor, and press into Lance’s side. Like slipping into a cozy sweater, Lance pressed back. It was a common occurrence for Keith to slide up next to his boyfriend after meditation to reestablish their bond, ever since the first incident.

 

Lance looked down at the top of Keiths head, resting on his shoulder. Every spot their bodies touched was warm, and thrummed through his heart. He was so in love, and he knew Keith loved him back, even if they never said it out loud. He could feel it in his soul, or what he thought his soul felt like. Sometimes, Lance was sure that they were fated. That If they died, they would somehow find each other in the next life, Like the bond was always there, only dorment. It was something more than just the paladin bond, it felt different. Even if it was just fantasy, Lance was certain that Keith was it for him. No one would ever come after, if there would even be an after.

 

The thought rippled through him, a sudden stone in a calm pond. It was the first time he had directly acknowledged it, That he really didn’t want anyone else, ever.

 

Keith lifted his head, and looked at Lance, no doubt having felt the flux of strong emotion. “Ace?” He questioned. His lips turned down, dragged by his concern.

 

Lance shifted to face him, and ran his hand through Keith’s hair, pushing the blue head back, and it fell to the floor. He gripped the back of Keith’s neck, and with a tug Lance claimed his lips. He poured his love, and reassurance into the kiss, and it rolled between them. Ocean waves and the heat of the sun. Then Lance pulled back, looking into Keith’s glazed eyes. “You’re hair is getting long,” he pointed out.

 

Keith blinked, confused. “What?” 

 

Lance smirked, loving that he could kiss Keith's head empty like that. “Let me braid it for you,” He suggested. Quietly, He was offering himself with the simple request. 

 

“Ummm, sure.” Keith didn’t have any context, but seemed to feel through the bond that this was important.

 

Lance turned his boyfriend, facing front to back, and crossed his legs. At first Keith was a little tense, his shoulders lifted. But after a minute of Lance stroking his long fingers through soft black hair, he relaxed. Somehow this felt more intimate than anything else they had done. It was probably because of the strong significance that Lance was sending out, unintentionally.  

 

Lance started on one side, french braising half of the hair to the back of Keith’s head, then he held it in place with the headband as a makeshift hair tie. They remained completely silent, as Lance began work on the other side. He was weaving himself into every strand, giving over everything to Keith. His fingers shook slightly, and he was sure Keith could feel it. A tingle of confusion trickled from the red stream, proding Lance. But Keith didn’t push, and submitted to Lance’s grooming.

 

When he finished the braids, Lance secured them both at the back of Keiths head, using headband as a scrunchie. But he didn’t let Keith turn around, instead he wrapped his arms around Keith’s shoulders and buried his face in the his pale neck. 

 

“I love you,” Lance whispered, his lips brushing the smooth, perfect skin.

 

A hot flush rushed up Keith's neck, warming Lance’s already red face. But it was the crashing inferno of emotions that barreled down the bond that made him sit up. Keith turned in his arms, pinning him with wide eyes, and a slightly parted mouth.

 

Lance’s heart raced, beating a tattoo of fear and anticipation. He expected a response of some type, not the seconds of silence that passed. When the flood of hot emotions was becoming unbearable, Keith move. He threw himself forward, and tackled Lance to the floor, his face pressed firmly into Lance chest. 

 

“I love you too, you idiot!” He yelled, relief and honestly overwhelmed them both.

 

Lance hugged him back. “you scared me for a second,” he admitted.

 

Keith suddenly sat up, glared down, and with his open hand he slapped Lance’s Shoulder. “What do you me I scared you!? You can feel that I love you, you fucking dumbass!”

 

“Ouch! Fuck Keith, that hurt!” Lance rubbed his abused and bandaged body.

 

Keith pulled his hands back, “Shit! Sorry, I forgot about your tattoo.” He took a breath, and leaned back over, with his hands on either side of Lance’s head. “It's just, I’ve loved you for so long, and I thought you knew, that you could feel it in the bond. But then you never said anything! And then I doubted that what I felt from you was love… and so I didn't say anything…” He trailed off, as if just realizing how dumb his explanation sounded.

 

Lance laughed, completely uncontrolled. He couldn’t help it, this was just too good. Keith sat up, still straddling Lance, and crossed his arms, pouting. “It’s, not funny…” he whined.

 

Lance clutched his stomach, gasping. “Yes~ it~ it is!” He took a breath, and tried again. “Its like karma! For~ for not telling me~ you~ you’re gay!” he broke down again, wheezing.

 

“I will slap your tattoo again, don't think I won’t,” Keith warned.

 

Lance managed to calm down, but was still smiling like a maniac. “You won't, because you  _ love  _ me!” He teased. 

 

Keith pouted harder, but a shutter of affection shimmied through their minds and he sighed. “I do,” he gave in.

 

“Good, me too,” Lance sat up, forcing Keith into the circle of his legs, and hugged him. “You should take the braids out before Hunk sees, unless you want to answer a lot of awkward questions,” he advised.

 

Keith leaned away and raised a brow, absolutely baffled. “You two have the weirdest friendship.”

 

Lance shrugged. “Yeah, it’s a rare… uuuuuhhh. I forgot the word… in english. He racked his brain, but couldn’t recall what he wanted. “ Fenómeno? You know when something is… exists, but is weird?”

 

Keith looked thoughtful, then snapped his fingers. “Phenomenon? It’s like a event or situation without a known cause.”

 

“Yeah, that! The words sound alike.” Lance nodded to himself, committing the it to memory. He chuckled and pulled Keith back to his chest, content to hold him. Their minds brushed closer, and whispered thoughts of love.

 

oOoOo

 

The team disbanded after the first rough plan was set. Pidge was confident that they could hack the cameras in the Yeppeo One bar, allowing Keith to be closely monitored during the mission. Lance would also be stationed in Yeppeo One, as hidden sniper backup. He was only slightly mollified by this, but it was better than being in the castle with everyone else, very far away from Keith.

 

Now, after endlessly pestering Keith about his mental state, and showering him with loving affection, Lance was half asleep. The edge of his mind blurred against the edge of Keith’s. The purple haze between their thoughts was warm, and filled with affection. It traveled all through Lance’s body, heating every bit it touched. 

 

Keith was curled around Lance from behind, and the arm he had draped over Lance slowly moved down. Keith’s hand suddenly splayed flat against Lance’s stomach, pulling him back against a firm chest. A light kiss on the back of the neck, sent the comforting purple bond shooting down, and flaring up into a red heat. A breathy sound escaped Lance, and Keith kissed his neck harder, pressing into the skin with his teeth. They groaned in joined pleasure, it sloshed between them, seemingly endless. 

 

Lance turned in Keith's arms, but continued to roll until he was on top. He kissed Keith, soft, and slow. It always sent a string of embarrassment through the bond when Lance cherished him like this, but it was weaved with happiness. Lance slid his mouth to Keith’s jaw, and then to his neck, trailing small kisses. The hips below him bucked up, and he could feel how hard Keith was, eager and aggressive, but longing to be loved. 

 

Lance always liked to take his time at first, to remind Keith how much he was wanted. But he always lost his cool, unable to resist the smooth skin that was stretched out under him. The second time Keith pressed his hips up, he let out a small, needy sound, and it undid Lance. With a swift moment, he flipped Keith over, with no protest from his partner. Lance ground himself against Keith’s ass, and moaned. He could feel his own breath against Keith’s ear, as the sensation looped between them.

 

“Ace…” the name was a pleading gasp.

 

Lance pulled back enough to slide his himself out of the front of his boxers, and pulled down Keith’s bottoms enough to reveal his ass. With practiced ease, Lance reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a small bottle. He flipped the cap, while letting his throbbing length settle between Keith’s cheeks, grinding down for good measure, earning a gasp. Distracted for a moment, Lance forgot the lube and used his other hand to push Keith’s shirt up, because Lance loved the toned plains of his boyfriend's back. He leaned down to place a kiss, and maybe a bite, and paused.

 

There was something on Keith’s skin…

 

It was a splotchy purple mark the size of a fist, and immediately Lance was angry. He was filled with icy rage. He pulled back, put his boxers back on properly, and grabbed Keith’s hips so he could lean in for a closer look.

 

“Ace?” All of the raspy need fled Keith’s voice. He tried to turn over, but Lance held him in place.

 

“Who did this?” Lance ran his hand over the Mark. It didn't feel the same as the rest of Keith's skin… Weird.

  
  


“Did what?!” Keith was confused, and becoming irritated. He pushed back, freeing himself from Lance’s hold and pulled his bottoms back up. He turned around and pinned Lance with a glare that demanded an explanation.

 

“What do you mean? There’s a huge bruise on your back!” Lance tried to keep his cool, but his voice was rising. Just the thought of someone hurting Keith sent him off the deep end. He never thought he would have such a protective streak, but the longer he was with Keith, the worse it got. He took a calming breath. “We have to go tell Saeg, Yep-nari aren't allowed to be touched while working. We can get who ever it was locked up for this.”  Lance started to get up, but was pulled back by a tug on his shirt.

 

“No one touched me.” Keith was truly baffled, and Lance could tell it wasn’t an act. 

 

Another thought drifted to Lance, but he didn’t want to consider it. How would Keith react if that were the case? “Are you sure?” he asked, worried wavered his voice.

 

Keith sighed, exasperated. “Considering how angry you are, it’s not a small mark. I think I would’ve noticed getting it.” 

 

Lance’s mind was racing, and it grabbed at the scene from that morning, when he tried to clean a small dot off of Keith’s face. A swoop of panic made Lance’s stomach drop, and Keith reacted to it, his breath catching. “Why are you freaking out?” He demanded.

 

“I’m not,” Lance’s tried to lie, despite knowing Keith would feel it. 

 

“Yes you are,” Keith insisted.

 

Lance had to know. Without responding he grabbed Keith’s face to hold it still and leaned in for a closer look. The dot was still there, and now that Lance was looking for it, he could see the purple tint. He thought back on something Allura had said on their first day here, something he never really stopped thinking about since he felt it everyday…

 

_ ‘ _ _ Just as coming in contact with to much pure quintessence can cause sudden changes to a living thing, having no contact can do the same, only slower.’ _

 

Lance had a sinking suspicion he knew what was happening.

 

“Fuck…” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boop me on Tumblr https://deetsvibre.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to read this! Part 6- The Full Story, coming... someday.
> 
> The next part should be the end, I hope... I have learned that I am really bad at estimating how long a story is.


	6. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance go on a mission to get an important ship part, and reveal their pasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I DID IT! I UPDATED! So, here’s the dealio… This isn’t the end of the fic. Sorry. When I broke 40,000 words I switched to a new document for convenience, and once I was 14 pages into THAT doc… I realized I had to break this up. Sorry again for accidentally lying to you all… But since this part worked out so well as its own chapter, I decided to post it. I guess I’m REALLY bad at estimating word counts... Beware of errors, I tried to edit the best I could, but I’m bad at it.
> 
> Anyway, I also wanted to post this because it had my backstory of Shiro and Keith’s meeting. It was mentioned in Part 1, but Keith explains more this time (and you get a small bit of Keith POV in a flashback!). I wanted my version out before my brain gets flooded with the canon version that's teased to be in season 7! Plus you guys will have something to tide you over till the release :) Also, this fic is SUPER AU after the bomb dropped at the comic con panel (Which I love, and have immediately boarded the train for).
> 
> PLEASE READ! I have made some adjustments to previous chapters, mostly small things, little additions, except a short scene added to part five. When Keith is bandaging Lance’s arm in the ships medbay, I added a small flash back to the actual fight, just a little insight into Lance’s mind at the time. It’s up to you if you want to reread, but I don’t think it’s necessary. 
> 
> WARNINGS- Please read before continuing. Warning: some underage and dubious content in flashbacks (non-graphic). Grief, anxiety and panic are heavy in this chapter, including more implied suicidal tendencies. Child abuse (non -graphic). Bit o’ that sub dom action.

 

**Part 6- Rain**

 

The dim, incandescent light, strained to reach the corners of the small bathroom. It hummed. Lance’s eyes followed the copper wires that trailed from the bulb, until they wandered out the door and faded into the dark bedroom. Pidge’s makeshift generator couldn't hold a candle to a Balmera crystal, but it was better than nothing. A small frustrated noise pulled Lance’s eyes to the mirror, but he wasn't looking at himself, instead it was Keith. A stiff, cold, ball of fear settled deeper into Lance’s chest, as he watched Keith try to examine the purple mark in his reflection. It was difficult for him to twist around, and he pulled on his skin with his fingertips, just barely able to touch the blemish.

 

“What does this mean? What if it spreads?” Keith whined, sounding more like Lance, while his fingers grazed the edge of his purple skin. The bond throbbed with anxiety, it was neausiating, and it took every bit of Lance’s control to hold it together. His own panic was quickly stacking on top, building a tower fated to tumble down. He scrambled to get a grip, Keith needed support.

 

“We can just keep an eye on it. It took months for it to happen… so maybe we can get off this planet before it spreads to much?” Lance closed the distance between them, and pulled Keith close, forcing him to drop his arms and stop twisting around. “Maybe if we get out of this dead space, it will revert?” Lance tried to sound confident, but the bond gave him away.

 

They slowly rocked back and forth, pushed by Keith's deep, even breaths. Slowly his fear dimmed to a distant thrum, but his back remained tight, and he hugged Lance harder. “We can’t tell anyone until after the mission. We need to focus, get the last part for the ship, and then get out of here,” he stated firmly, for both of their benefits.

 

“Together, we got this.” Lance could back these words with solid belief, because they could get over anything, united. The tower of fear tumbled, but gracefully, as they stood in a comforting moment. Then, Lance’s mouth opened…  “Do you…” He started, but stopped. He had a bad habit of breaking the moment, but he didn't cut himself off fast enough.

 

Keith pulled back to look him in the face. “Do I what?” He tipped his head in question, and smirked at Lance’s responding affection.

 

Lance looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment despite the futility. “Nothing,” he muttered.

 

Keith released the hug and crossed his arms. He shifted his weight to one side and looked at Lance suspiciously. “No, no, no. You can’t start to say something and stop. You know that drives me nuts,” he accused.

 

Lance sagged, and let his arms dangled with regret. “I was just wondering… if I would look good with white hair?” he admitted, with a sheepish smile.

 

“What?” Keith let his arms drop, exasperation and endearment pushed at the bond.

 

“Well…” Lance rubbed his shaggy hair, currently loose around his ears. “I was wondering if I would change too, because of my Altean part… then I thought of Allura, and her hair… and wondered if I would get white hair…” He tapered off, and his face flushed as he whispered, “and worried if you would like it?”

 

A heavy sigh heaved itself out of Keith, almost forcefully. “I might turn completely lilac, and you're worried I might not like you with white hair?”

 

A jab of annoyance poked Lance hard, but it was followed by pale, red words. _‘Of course I would like it.’_

 

“Sorry...” A weak smile tugged at Lance. “My mind wandered, and my mouth just sorta... does what it wants.” He pulled Keith back into a hug, ignoring the lack of participation. “But I will love you even if you’re purple,” he assured.

 

Keith didn't raise his limp arms, still irritated, but he leaned in closer. “Really?”

 

“Yeah!” Lance forced some cheer into his voice, hoping it was enough to keep them afloat in their chaotic sea of troubles. “And, I wouldn’t complain if you got a pair of those cute cat ears!” He teased, and held on tight against the wash of annoyance.

 

“LANCE!” Keith struggled wildly, but couldn’t break free. “Let me go! You jerk!”

 

Lance laughed, and it sent a wave of joy between them. “But I’m comforting you!” He yelled, and squeezed tighter.

 

“You’re an asshole!” Keith barked, but it morphed into a helpless laugh.

 

“You love me!” Lance cooed, beginning to loosen his grip on Keith.

 

With one hard push, Keith brought them both to the floor. Lance’s stomach swooped as they tumbled, and he landed on his back with Keith draped over him. “I do, you buttface.” A smile fought against Keith's frown, his amusement mixed with annoyance.

 

Lance chuckled, “Good, I love you too.”

 

A flash of bright affection bloomed between them, but the light in the room dimmed and wavered. The bare bulb buzzed, and the joy leaked from Keith. A familiar, but still confusing fear welled up, and Lance knew that Keith was thinking about the mission. Shiro was yanking Keith around by something in his past, again. Pain echoed in a deep emptiness that had formed in Keith, but it was surrounded by a steel shell of duty and determination.

 

“Rojo, you don’t have to do the mission. I’m sure we can find another way,” Lance whispered, threading his fingers through Keith's hair. They remained on the tiled floor, rising and falling with their breaths.

 

“I have to. We need to get back to the war, it’s too important.” Each word stung, Keith recoiled even as he committed to them.

 

Lance sighed. “But it's hurting you, I can feel it.”

 

Keith gripped the front of Lance shirt. “That doesn’t matter, we have-”

 

Lance sat up so abruptly, it silenced Keith as he slid into Lance’s lap. “It does matter! You’re important!” Lance wrapped a wide eyed Keith up in a hug. “Even if you decided to go through with the mission, it doesn’t make how you feel any less real! You should have a say in how this goes down, NOT Shiro, and NOT Allura. You. This is affecting you. It has something to do with your past, right?”

 

A small nod, hardly a movement, confirmed Lance’s suspicion. This was the same issue Shiro brought up in dead space. Somehow it was all connected. He pushed down the bond every drop of Keith’s value, as Lance saw him.

 

Keith pulled away and stood up, and for one terrible moment, Lance thought he had pushed too hard, but Keith held out a hand with a loving smile. “Let's go back to bed,” he offered. The bond was a mess of emotions, but fear no longer dominated, and Keith felt a little less empty.

 

oOoOo

 

Lance was a mess.

 

The impending mission was a sharp reminder of this, and it only compounded with Keith's purple little problem. Every hour that passed left a film of anxiety over the bond. Six days remained, and Lance wasn't sure what to do. Meditation wasn’t working, the distance it put between them would send Keith into a free fall, and so he wandered the Castle and shack, relapsing into old habits. On every circuit he marked his team's location, and prayed for the obsessive ritual to peel back the heavy weight on his heart.

 

Pidge was in the engine room.

Hunk was in Gi-shu.

Shiro was in the scrap yard.

Allura was at work.

Keith was at work.

Fen and Coran were in the scrap office.

Ja-Berk was in his bedroom.

Luse was in the Castle storage…

 

Luse thought no one knew he would sneak in there sometimes, pillaging this and that, but Lance noticed. He let it go, because the young thief never took much. It seemed to make Luse happy to rummage through the Castle, and Lance didn't want to take that from the kid.

 

Lance repeated his patrol, over and over. He followed the path of worn rust through the shack, and the timley trail of dirt tracked onto the white floors of the castle, but the waves of anxiety still eroded his peace. Peace he had worked hard to build over the last few months. The anxiety wasn't all his own, and it pooled between him and Keith, a puddle on the road of their bond. Both of them needed a distraction… On his fifth lap, Lance caught Hunk just as he removed the Gi-shu gear.

 

“Hunk, my man,” Lance called, shifting his feet in a nervous shuffle, grinding away the crumbling rust.

 

The distressed pull of his voice was hard to miss, and Hunk immediately looked worried. “Lance, everything OK?”

 

The familiar concern slid over Lance. A smooth surface that called back to long nights, warm hugs, and strong years of friendship. It was comforting that Hunk was the same. After everything they had gone through, and how much Lance had changed, the core of this wonderful friend held strong. He wanted to cry, to throw a fit and yell about how unfair all everything was, and to be angry for Keith. Instead he shrugged, and pushed everything down. Cold, it dropped to his stomach. Lance shivered. “I’m fine, I just wanted to talk about something…” He sighed, it was a lame excuse, and he could see it in Hunk’s placating eyes.

 

With concern coating his every movement, Hunk slowly approached. “Sure buddy,”  he soothed, slipping an arm around Lance’s shoulders.

 

He was being treated like a wounded animal, but Lance couldn’t be mad. In the past, he had lashed out, or broken down on a dime. If Hunk was being this cautious, then Lance must look like hot shit. He rubbed the back of his head, shuffling the shaggy hair. “I… ummm- I asked Keith if I could tell you what's going on, and he said it was OK.”

 

Hunk perked up. “Really?” Interest burned bright in his eyes.

 

Lance felt a smile pull, and his heart reached. “Yeah, let's go somewhere private.” He grabbed the arm over his shoulder and used it to lead Hunk away.

 

Lance kept his eyes down, and didn’t look back. This was harder than he thought it would be. Despite the hot excitement that curled in his chest, watery fear trickled down to dampen it. He wanted to yell to the universe how much he loved Keith, most of all he wanted his best friend to know… But would Hunk be angry? Would he understand and accept them? Lance fretted, despite knowing his worries were likely unfounded.

 

They arrived at Lance’s room, and slowly with a small stutter, the door slid open. Hunk went in first, waved by Lance. The door closed behind them, and with a quick slap of the control panel, it locked.

 

“Lance, Buddy?” Hunk questioned. His large frame shifted from left to right, and back again as he twisted his hands.

 

A solid wall of silence fell between them. Every moment that it existed, Hunk became more tense, until his back was rod straight and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Lance didn't know where to start, but nervous laughter bubbled up and leaked past his clenched teeth. It didn’t sound like a laugh once it broke free, it was a dying, desperate whine. Some stupid joke was trying to claw its way up as well, but Lance bit down on it. He already seemed crazy, he couldn’t spew out some off color joke.

 

Hunk opened and closed his mouth a few times, seemingly at a loss. If this stretched out any longer, Hunk might try and broach another subject that they left unfinished in dead space. Things Lance most definitely didn't want to talk about. Only, now all he could think of were wildly inappropriate things. His mind kept screaming dirty thoughts, and if he tried to speak he might end up screaming something embarrassing like, ‘I HAVE HAD A DICK IN MY MOUTH!’ or ‘KEITH IS A GREAT FUCKING LAY!’.

 

Hunk opened his mouth again, this time with determined, furrowed brows. Lance knew what was coming, because Hunk didn’t trust meditation as a solution, and he was about to push the past into Lance face. Panic, pure and uninhibited, grabbed the least unsavory thing going through Lances head, and it burst from him at full volume.

 

“Lan-” Hunk began,

 

“I’M IN LOVE WITH KEITH!” Lance’s yell echoed in his own ears. Rolling red laughter washed over him, but Lance ignored it, to absorbed in his own mortification.

 

Hunk blinked, shocked, and wide eyed. His shoulders slumped as all the confidence he must have built up fled his body like a gust of wind. “Uhhhh… OK.” He cleared his throat. “Ummm, do you know if he swings that way?” he asked, forlorn.

 

Lance stared at Hunk, confused. What kinda question was that, of course- oh wait... Lance’s brain caught up, context, he need to give context… Lance raised his hands for a pause. “Let me rephrase.” He took a long, slow breath. “Keith and I are in a relationship… have been for a while. We're in love.” A hot flush rose up to Lance’s cheeks. “Like, we said it to each other and everything…” He managed to explain, with his voice only cracking a little. Passion and embarrassment bubbled in him, and rolled to Keith and back.

 

Hunk stared at Lance, hand covering his mouth, like he was unsure if this was a joke; he waited for any sign of a prank. A chuckle slipped from between his fingers, but when no returning laugh came, he coughed. His hand dropped from his mouth, which hung open. “OK, wow…” he breathed. “Are you sure? Cuz I was pretty sure you hated him at one point…” Like a true engineer, Hunk went to the beginning and worked forward. “The very first time you saw him at the Garrison, you immediately hated him, and complained about his hair. Then you declared yourself his rival, and yelled at him, and followed him around to pull pranks, and complained about him all the time. I mean ALL the time. You went on about how dumb his hair was for like, three hours once, I was trying to sleep and…” Hunks rant tapered off, as the dawning realization clipped his words short. “Oh my god,  you love him.” His hand shot up to his mouth again, and he whispered from behind it. “You love him, and his dumb hair. You actually like his dumb hair don’t you?!” He accused.

 

Lance was struck with a realization as well. He had always wanted Keith, but was denying it all along. It felt right, admitting that his old anger was just a cover for his feelings. “YES! I love him and his dumb hair!” Lance chirped, confirming for Hunk. A small red barb poked him, unhappy with all the hair comments, but he ignored it. The feeling of fate, and acceptance washed in. It smooth the sands of Lance’s concerns, because he was rapidly becoming certain that he and Keith were meant to be. He waved his arms around, riled up by affection and excitement. “This is like some destiny shit or something. Our bond is nothing like the paladin bond, you felt that, right? When you were connected to me.” He bounced a bit. “I wanted to tell you so bad.”

 

Still shocked, Hunk slowly nodded, but as his face relaxed it also dropped, causing his kind features to be askew. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked. It was an unavoidable question.

 

A flicker of fear and guilt forced Lance’s shoulders down. He was worried about this reaction. He had to explain, but didn’t know what he could say about Keith and Shiro’s situation… He didn't even know the whole truth himself. Lance clung to his fluttering nerves, and spilled everything he wanted to tell Hunk all along. “Listen, it’s not as if I realized I liked him, and then like a normal, rational person, walked up and told him! I went from thinking I hated him, to dying inside from a massive crush!” He threw his arms up, swinging them wildly, and let his bubbling anxiety drive him. “I didn’t know what I supposed to say! Should I have walked up to him and said something like, ‘I don’t know if you’re into guys, and I know we hated each other, and we just sorta became kinda friends, but I wanna put my face on your face?’ and he would be like, ‘oh sure, go ahead and do that, I’m totes into the face smashing with dudes.’? No! Of course not! I agonized over it, ran from it! Part of running from it was denial, and that included not telling anyone!”

 

Lance let his arms drop, he should have told Hunk a long time ago. He tried to catch his breath, but the words wouldn’t stem their flow. “This is some horror movie type stuff! Like no matter how fast we ran it would catch us, except it didn’t run, it walked, but still kept up… the bond was forming no matter what! But it wasn’t bad, it was like a good horror movie. Final Destination without all the dying.. Or something…”

 

Lance’s breath finally caught. The emotions he wanted to share were all bundled up in his throat, and his voice was thick with them as he confessed. “I was scared, but happy, and so was Keith…” He looked Hunk in the eyes, and took a strong stance, because he wasn't ashamed. “We hid the bond because we wanted it, and worried that if Allura knew she would investigate, and Shiro would probably think it was some enemy plot… and… I just wanted to keep him, and against all odds, he wanted me too.” At some point in his rant Lance lost the thread of the conversation, but that didn’t stop his words from being true.

 

“I love him.” Lance shrugged, and let his arms fall heavy at his sides. His mind was encompassed by a warm, red embrace. It kept him calm in the stretched moment between his words and Hunks.

 

Hunk stared at him for a long time, or at least, it felt like a long time. Then, his shoulders shifted, and he let loose a long breath. “OK...” he relented easily.

 

“OK?” Lance repeated back. At first he was relieved, and a tiny bit disappointed by how anticlimactic it was. Then Hunk leaned forward, curling in on himself just a tad. It was the classic posture of a Hunk who was hiding something. “But…?” Lance drew out the word, prompting him to explain.

 

“But…” Hunk hugged himself. “You went on about fate, and stuff. Doesn’t that seem a little over the top? Maybe your bond is just a really strong paladin bond?” He sounded more guilty with every word. He obviously didn't want to hurt Lance, but felt obligated to voice his doubts.  

 

“Buddy, I want you to understand, but I don’t know how to explain it.” Lance scrubbed at his hair, frustrated. Hunk had only brushed the edge of their bond before.

 

“I want to understand,” Hunk said, and it rang with honesty.

 

A metallic sound spread between them, warbling like a slack cord. A yellow link, that brushed it’s smooth surface over Lance. Their bond snapped into place, pulled taut, and both of them stumbled at the force of it, stronger than ever before. Hunk skimmed the top of Lance’s blue waters, curious. He was asking to understand, and Lance complied.

 

 _‘Rojo?’_ He reached out.

 

Keith responded, rising up, breaking the surface of Lance’s mind. A crimson creature stirring from the depths, as impressive as his vast ocean home. He softened, flowing into silk ribbons, gracefully gliding through Lance’s thoughts. Wherever their minds touched, they blended, the bond morphed, and they were purple.

 

Hunk simply hovered above them, unable to breach the tight weave they formed. “Holy crap…” he muttered.

 

“Yeah,” Lance agreed.

 

“Holy shit, Lance!” Hunk exclaimed this time.

 

“Understand now?” Lance couldn’t help snarking, this was a little cathartic.

 

Hunk nodded, slowly, his eyes far away as he looked inward at their connection. “How do you stay… well, you?” His eyes focused, and locked with Lance’s.

 

“We’re not alway this closely connected, unless we try to be, but he's always there… and there are times, when my thoughts don’t feel real, until they’ve gone through Keith.” Lance knew they were closely linked, but saying it out loud, and seeing Hunk’s reaction, made it that much more real. Lance needed Hunk to keep this quiet. “You can’t tell anyone about us, not yet. I don’t want- If they-”

 

“I get it, buddy. I really do,” Hunk interrupted, his entire position flipped, and his smooth corners renewed. “Anything that might threaten this-” he gestured vaguely at Lance, indicating the bond. “Has to be taken seriously. I assume it has something to do with Shiro, from the way Keith and him have been treating each other?” He deduced, as perceptive as always.

 

“Yeah,” Lance replied quietly, blown away by Hunks capacity for understanding and caring.

 

“Do you think this bond has anything to do with both you and Keith not being completely human?” Without missing a beat, Hunk began to theorize about why this bond formed they way it did. Lance relaxed, this was familiar, and he had missed it.

 

oOoOo

 

Two days passed, strained, and uncomfortable. Keith had refused to be in the same room as Shiro. It made finalizing their mission plans… difficult. Lance had thought about talking to Keith, maybe convincing him to back out of the mission. They could always find another way. But whenever they did manage to work on the plan, Keith’s mind was a steel trap, completely determined. Lance couldn’t blame him, They had been away from the war for far too long.

 

A cold, and heavy weight had been draped over Lance, like a wet blanket, it sagged and suffocated. It was something that he had shrugged off months ago, and now was back. Without meditation, and with the added stress of their situation, The blanket only grew with every passing moment. But, another, warmer weight on his lap helped keep him from unraveling. Lance ran his fingers through Keith’s hair, a low comforting hum vibrated between them as Keith drifted in and out of sleep. Lance was lounging on his bed, with Keith’s head in his lap, in a rare moment of peace.

 

Long, tan fingers slowly pulled the blue headband from Keith’s hair. Sleepy purple eyes fluttered when Lance began to slowly braid the hair on one side of Keith head. When he reached the back, Lance playfully prodded his boyfriend to roll over. Keith groaned, but fuzzy affection laced the sound, and he complied.

 

Lance was tying the two french braids together with the headband when a sharp knock pierced the calm moment. Keith sat up, and moved an appropriate distance from Lance.

 

“Yeah?” Lance called out, since they were in his room.

 

Keith had reached up to pull the braids loose when Hunks voice came through the door. “It’s me, buddy.”

 

Lance grabbed Keith's hands. “Leave them,” he whispered, with a line of excitement in his voice. A thrill went through him at the thought of not having to hide, at least from Hunk. He slipped from the bed and unlocked the door.

 

Hunk wandered in, and came up short. The door slid shut with less than an inch of clearance from his back, and he leaned against it. “Uh, hey.” He waved at Keith, awkwardly. His eyes snapped from Keith to Lance and back again, then they trailed to the braids, and widened. “Oh…” He made a small sound, and it encapsulated both surprise and understanding. The sight of the braids was more impactful than even feeling their bond, and Hunk knew it.

 

“Whats up?” Lance asked, and slid back onto the bed, closer to Keith than he would normally dare with company. Deep silence rained in the room, and Lance refused to let tension grow. Hunk accepted them, but obviously didn’t know how to behave around them. He slipped his hand into Keith’s, a small motion that broke the awkwardness. The bond vibrated like a plucked cord, but Keith squeezed Lance’s hand.  

 

Hunk blinked, and pushed off the door, as his body melted into a more familiar, casual stance. “I was sent to tell you guys that we are having a team meeting in half a varga.” He looked at Keith as he delivered the message. Everyone noticed the cold air between Shiro and Keith become frigid in the last few days.

 

Hot anger spiked, and it was abrasive against Lance’s calmer mind. A long sigh escaped him, and he flopped to the side against Keith, allowing his head to rest on his boyfriend's shoulder. The contact doused the flames of Keith’s temper to a more manageable degree.

 

Reluctantly, almost as if without consent, Keith tipped his head to rest on top of Lance’s. The dampened anger settled into resentment, and slipped into Keith's words. “Shiro sent you on purpose, didn’t he?” He gestured at Hunk in a forlorn way. Everyone had trouble saying no to him. The rounded edge of Hunk's kindness, gently rolled over the people around him, and smoothed them out.

 

Hunk sagged a little, it was a small drop of his shoulders, but it made clear how he felt about being used. “Yeah… he didn’t say it, but I know he sent be on purpose.” It was hard to disobey Shiro.

 

Hot needles pricked against Lance as resentment became irritation. _‘Shiro shouldn’t have dragged Hunk into this,’_ Keith signed into their bond.

 

Lance raked his eyes over Hunk’s downcast posture. The scuffed up surface of his shining friend bothered him, a lot. _‘Maybe, you should go to this meeting,’_ he suggested gently, in a blue wave of encouragement.

 

Keith stiffened, and their thread pulled tight. _‘You don’t understand-’_

 

 _‘I know I don’t, but…’_ Lance rushed to interrupt, and then pulled up short, leaving only the sentiment of ‘I would if you told me’. The bond pulled tighter, and Lance tried to explain. _‘I just don’t want Shiro to throw the others at you… he started off with the big guns, but what if he sends Pidge, Allura, or Coran. Imagine Coran coming and being all uncley, and you say no to him. Shiro isn’t going to let this go.’_ His logic was working, and Keith’s pull on their bond went slack. Their connection became slik in the wind, fluttering between them as Keith turned inward to mull over the situation.

 

Only snippets of Keith’s thoughts came through. Mostly disgruntled rumblings. Lance looked at Hunk, an intense and confused gaze looked back, twitching to Keith every few seconds. It occured to Lance, that maybe they should work on keeping their conversations off their face, since Hunk easily picked up on it. Lance smiled at Hunk, a little sheepish, and shrugged.

 

A few more seconds of silence passed, and then Keith turned his head enough to let out a frustrated breath into Lance’s hair behind the pink clip. The slightly curled ends of his ruffled, and Keith placed a light kiss there. “Fine…” He muttered.

 

“Wha?” Hunk was flushed. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, only nervous. He looked down at his hands, and picked at his fingernails. Lance, wasn’t sure what was making his friend so embarrassed, but he had to assume this was all very weird for him.

 

Keith looked at Hunk, so his mouth wasn't muffled in Lance’s hair and repeated, sharply, “I said fine, I’ll go.”

 

Hunk jumped, and quickly put his hands at his sides, like he just noticed his own fidgeting. “Oh! Good, good…” He was very flustered, but took a fortifying breath, and clenched his hands. “Listen, I need to say this before I lose my nerve,” he began, but hesitated. He glanced at Lance and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, _“why'd you have to pick someone so scary?”_

 

Hunk stood tall and switched his serious gaze to Keith, and spoke directly. “I love Lance.” His words were solid, not even a little waver, despite his earlier comment.

 

Lance felt Keith stiffen, prepared for whatever came next, but he stayed quiet. An over the top, warm and gooey, flood of emotions poured from Lance, and it kept Keith in check.

 

The line of Hunk’s body straightened, conveying how serious he was. “Lance is my best friend, my brother. I care about him more than anyone… except maybe my mom… and I feel like I have to tell you…” He hesitated for a moment, as if his next statement grated against his natural kindness. “If you hurt Lance, I’ll… I’ll…” He wavered, searching for the words. “I’ll do something bad to you!” Hunk made mashing motions with his hands. “Imagine this is your head, I’ll crush it or something!” He finished, not sounding confident in his own threat, but his heart was there.

 

The swell of affection in Lance only grew with every endearing moment of Hunk’s speech. He turned his head without lifting it so he could smile at Keith. “See babe, Hunk is threatening you because he’s taking this seriously.” He placed a kiss on Keith’s neck.

 

“Ace,” Keith chuckled, as the tide of amusement rising in him suddenly doubled.

 

Apparently that small display of affection was too much for Hunk. From his hair line to the base of his neck was bright red. Lance smirked, and for the first time in days he felt some relief from his constant worry. Without a second thought he lifted his head, cupped Keith's face, turning it, and engaged in a closed mouth kiss. It was small, and innocent.

 

Hunk squeaked. He spun around, and slapped the door panel to flee. But before he fled, he looked over his shoulder. “You guys are cute!” He admitted, and ran.

 

oOoOo

  


_“I’m just saying, he hasn’t been OK with you for a while. Now you’ve sent Hunk to get him to come to this meeting? What exactly did you do?”_

 

Pidge sounded aggravated. Their words trailed faintly down the hall outside the control room. The various response were all spoken at once, and melted into an indistinguishable mumbling that rolled over the shiny floors and bundled wires. Lance and Keith crossed into the dim line of light that leaked from the open door. The makeshift electric bulbs hardly reached the edges of the control room, leaving a dark abyss between them and the high ceiling. Lance glance around the room. Although the new lights were warm and yellow, it felt wrong for this room to not be bathed in the cool blue glow of the Bulmara crystal, which remained dormant.

 

_“He won’t even be in the same room as-”_

 

_“He’s just holding a grudge-”_

 

_“Shiro, have you tried to talk-”_

 

_“Both of them need a chill pill, or some Rira’s Song…”_

 

_“Who says ‘chill pill’ anymore?”_

 

The cross stitch of conversation stopped, and everyone looked towards the doorway. Their guilty eyes set a weight on Keith, that he held up with stiff shoulders and a high head. Trembling red tendrils snaked deeper into Lance, pulling on him for support, and Lance gave everything he had.  

 

“Keith,” Shiro sounded surprised. “You came.” Guilt dragged him down. Tired, dark eyes roamed over Keith, assessing him.

 

Keith didn't look at Shiro, but crossed his arms and glared at the floor. Hunk came up next to him. “Hey,” he greeted. Keith looked up at him from under his bangs. “Hey,” he offered, letting Hunk know he wasn’t mad at him.

 

Allura cleared her throat. Everyone struggled to drag their attention away from the drama. When their eyes focused on her, she looked nervous. For the first time Lance watched Allura flounder as a leader, because she was trapped between duty and her love for Shiro. Her roll had become especially uncomfortable, but she tried to remain unbiased. She looked at each team member, lingering on Keith’s braids, then she trained questioning eyes onto Lance, obviously confused. He smiled, soft and encouraging, and shrugged in response. In all the stress about coming to the meeting, he had forgotten about the braids, but Allura didn’t know their deeper meaning. She smiled back, and lightly ran her hand along the slick french braid he had done for her that morning. Recentered, she pulled her shoulders back, and started strong. “We have a mission,” she announced.

 

The slowly drifting focus of the team was sharpened to a point. Allura paused for a moment, letting the idea settle. Then she continued. “I’m not talking about our upcoming escapade in Yeppeo one. I’m talking about the war with the Galra. It is our true mission, and we need to successfully secure the parts Pidge needs, so that we can return to helping the universe.” Allura became a shining beacon as she spoke, and Lance felt calmer, even Keith was smoothing over...

 

“Allura’s right,” Shiro stepped forward, and the peace was spoiled. Keith curtled, and it seeped into Lance.

 

Shiro didn’t falter, unaware of the shift in mood. “We have a rough outline of the mission. We know what time Vii will be in the bar, and that Keith will be the one making contact-”

 

Coran slid up next to Shiro with impressive grace, and stroked his mustache. “Are we sure that Keith should be making contact? I was thinking, if we had Keith follow him instead, we could maybe get some intel without risking-”

 

Shiro rejected the idea before Coran even finished. “No, We can’t delay this any longer, we need-”

 

“I agree with Coran.” Pidge spoke up, responding to Coran. “Not that I don’t have faith in Keith, but have you seen him talk to people?” They tossed Keith a smirk and a side glance. “No offence,” they offered.

 

Keith shrugged, but Lance noted the fast hold he had on his emotions.

 

“I know Keith can-” Shiro tried to take control of the meeting, but was drown out by Hunk.

 

“I see Pidge’s point. Remember that planet with the big hole, like everything they did was about the big hole. People would go in it and never come back. You guys remember?” Hunk asked, making a circle with his arms to represent the hole. “All the people there were some type of small tree people, and one of them was fascinated with Keith. Followed him around asking a million questions, and all Keith did was nod. No matter what the little guy asked he would just nod. We all though Keith hated the tiny dude.” Some chuckles rolled around at the memory. “But when that bird thing scared the mini tree man, Keith went berserk and almost murdered it…”  Hunk shrugged. “I’m just saying, he's not great with words.”

 

Lance smothered a laugh. Keith always got prickly when this story was brought up, but it was funny. It also served as a good example, and Hunk was trying his best to get Keith off the hook. Lance opened his mouth to agree, but a sharp jab down the bond stopped him.

 

 _‘Don’t.’_ Keith’s request slipped down red strings. _‘I can’t stop Pidge or Hunk, but don’t help them. I hate to agree with Shiro, but he's right. We need to get this done as quick as we can. We have a war to fight.’_ It was the logical response, and it butted up against a wave distaste. Keith didn’t want this, but he felt like he had to do it.

 

 _‘Rojo, you don-’_ Lance tried to argue, but an avalanche of red determination overshadowed his concern.

 

They weren’t looking at each other as they communicated. They stood an appropriate distance apart, and the sound of the team arguing over the details of Hunk’s story surrounded them. Yet, Keith managed to hold Lance. The avalanche touched down gently, and covered his mind. _‘I need to get off this planet. I want to get back to being me. I can’t stand being a Yep-nari...’_ The rest was a wave of feelings and impressions that made up who Keith was, but it was twisted, forced into a mold he didn’t fit.

 

Lance understood. He felt similarly, as much as he liked being a Zuko, he missed being the guy that had everyone's back. It was in his nature to be the protective eye of a sniper, and it was in Keith’s to be on the front line. Not standing around looking pretty. Whatever it was that Keith hated about this mission, he was fighting it for his freedom.

 

 _‘OK,’_ Lance agreed, hesitantly. The slide of icy doubt still ran down his spine. There was something he was missing.

 

The bond had draped over their minds, muffling the world, but now they noticed the conversation around them had escalated.

 

“I want this to work just as much as everyone else, BUT I have doubts about this plan!” Pidge snapped at Shiro.

 

Hunk yelled hype man phrases from behind. _“Yeah, they have doubts!”_

 

“I just don't feel like you’re listening, or there's something you’re not telling us!”

 

_“Secrets are bad, Shiro!”_

 

Pidge whipped around and jabbed Hunk in the chest with their finger. “You’re not helping, Hunk!” With a pout, Hunk rubbed his sore abdomen.  Pidge turned on Shiro, with their feet in a solid stance for yelling, and their finger posed for a good telling off.

 

Shiro jumped on his chance to cut in. “Pidge, I understand you’re frustrated, but I need you to trust me when I say Keith can do this. He has a skill set-”

 

“SHIRO!” The name ripped through the conversation. It was more than a yell. Keith roared. An inferno spread down the link, and Lance was consumed by wildfire. He was so shocked by Keith's sudden temper, that he let the anger dry him up, and didn't react.

 

Shiro took a step back and away from Keith. His eyes wouldn’t settle on Keith’s face, and instead were fixed on his chest. The lines around his mouth deepened with a shameful frown. “They're going to find out eventually, Keith. I just want to reassure everyone that you can do this,” he reasoned, with a level tone. Shiro sought justification, through his eyes and the unsure line of his body, he begged for it.

 

Keith growled, sharp, and bordering on inhuman. “It’s not your place to tell them! You keep holding my past over me!” He fumed. A choppy sea of emotion drowned each deep breath Keith took, his rage washed away to reveal a deep disappointment. “Things I don’t want to include as a part of who I am…you used them against me,” he whispered.

 

Shiro finally looked up into Keith’s eyes, drawn in by his quiet voice, then flinched away. “Keith, please,” he pleaded at the floor. “If this is about what I said in dead space, that was just a misunderstanding. I asked Lance to tell you...”

 

A hole opened between Keith and Shiro, a separation that echoed down the bond to Lance. From across the chasm Keith spoke.“I know why you confronted me back then, and it’s not an excuse.” Keith grasped at the bond for support, waking Lance from his shocked stupor. His volume rose as he gained confidence in his defence, and stood tall.  “You want me to forgive you. BUT you keep throwing my past in my face! I trusted you, and your doing it again!”

 

“Keith! The war won't wait for us. We need to get off this planet!” Shiro dawned his leader mantle, and defended himself with it. “I’m just trying to do what's best for everyone. This mission is important-”

 

“I’M IMPORTANT!” The screamed dominated anything Shiro tried to say, and everyone stared at Keith. His head was down, and his fist clenched at his sides. With a stiff spine, and tight words, he whispered. “... I matter.” In the bond Keith was reaching for Lance, the person that kept him, and the love that helped him realize the truth. Lance offering it all, and Keith looked form under his long bangs at Shiro, holding his eyes. “you can’t just use what you know about me however you like, I get a say in this,” he declared.

 

Attention shifted back to Shiro. The air vibrated in anticipation of his response, and the expected step back that would be taken. But, Shiro didn't back down, and for a second Lance hated him. It was obvious, even if you didn't have any context, that Keith was hurting, and it was Shiro's doing. Even Allura looked torn between her love and her dear friend, as Shiro's shoulders rose up in preparation of his defence. “This mission needs to succeed, and if explaining your experience with these situations helps raises our chances, by giving the team confidence in you, then that's what I will do,” he doubled down on his stance, like an idiot.

 

A long, quiet sigh stretched from Lance. What should have been a resolution, dissolved into endless, hateful bickering. Lance could understand on some level why Shiro was being so stubborn. Ever since they got into this mess they all felt stranded, helpless, and useless. But those qualifiers applied more so to Shiro. Without his arm, Saeg’s respect, or the Black Lion, he had fallen to the bottom of the pack, and it was unexpectedly Lance, who had risen to the top. Shiro was having trouble letting go, and still struggled against the circumstances, while someone he probably viewed as nothing but a goofball, easily stepped over him. Lance didn’t want this to be the truth, but all signs pointed to the issue being nothing but a damaged ego.

 

Bickering, quickly dissolved into shouting as the argument picked back up, and it ran in circles.

 

_“The mission has to happen!”_

 

_“I never said I was backing out, I just want a say over how it goes down! The team doesn’t need to know the details!”_

 

Lance didn't know how to interrupt, and stood back with the rest of the team. All of them uncertain about how to break up the fight. Allura tried to speak up, but her common sense was tapped down by the yelling.

 

Irritation, that was was only Lance’s, began to burn in his chest. He mentally prodded Keith, hard. _‘ROJO!’_ Other than a quick glance, there was no reaction.

 

_“I’m leading this mission, stop arguing with me!”_

 

_“Well, since I’m so experienced according to you. Maybe I should be leading the mission!”_

 

The argument deteriorated, becoming petty and childish. Irritation grew into anger. Lance supported Keith, and was glad that he stood up for himself, but the point was becoming lost, and this needed to end. _‘Rojo,’_ he tried softer this time. _‘Things are going a bit off the rails,’_ he pointed out.

 

Not even a flinch. Keith barrelled forward, irrational and stubborn, like only he could… and apparently Shrio could as well. What started out as valid points, and misguided attempts to rectify the situation, tumbled into meaningless insults. The brotherly nature of their relationship reared its head in an ugly way.

 

_“You’re an idiot, Takashi!”_

 

_“Very mature, Keith!”_

 

_“Says the guy that got drunk when his highschool girlfriend dumped him and cried while trying to paint his bedroom black. Poorly, with Sharpies you stole from me!”_

 

_“You said you would never tell anyone about that!”_

 

_“Don’t be such a hypocrite! Plus I liked those Sharpies!”_

 

_“All you did with them was color your nails black!”_

 

_“I was thirteen! And emotional!”_

 

Suddenly, Lance felt like he was in his living room while his siblings argued over the remote. Any moment his mamá would burst into the room and tell them what’s what. Lance was losing grip on his control, and part of him wanted to let loose and end this right here and now, like he would with his younger siblings. The pressure on his chest mounted, and his thought were consumed by his desire for it to stop. Stop, STOP!

 

Then Keith and Shiro moved towards each other, with an edge to them that screamed fist fight, Lance went into action on instinct alone. With the reflexes of a boy that had dodged countless spatulas, spoons and flip flops, he snatched Keith's wrist as his arms was rising for a punch, and planted himself between the two men, facing Keith.

 

“!No lo hagas!” Lance barked. The familiar situation drew the Spanish from him, without his notice...

 

Keith noticed. He froze, the fight knocked out of him by surprise, and concern. He stared with wide eyes as Lance, obviously distressed, repeated, softer. “tiene que parar.”

 

Lance was so wrapped up in the situation he didn’t register what he had done, until Keith lowered both their arms and responded. “tienes razón,” his spanish still a little stunted.

 

Panic didn’t ensue, the walls didn’t crash down around Lance, crushing him. A silent pause hung for a tick. Some of the team looked at Lance, confused, while most of them looked at Keith and Shiro in shock. Spanish didn’t seem to be at the top of anyone's priority list.

 

Hunk stepped towards Lance and Keith. Slow and easy, his friendly nature rolled over the room. “Good catch, buddy. We can’t be fighting among ourselves right now.” He carefully wrapped his large hand around Lance’s much smaller wrist, and pulled his hand off of Keith’s arm.

 

How long had they been standing in silence? Lance hadn’t realized he was still holding onto Keith. It would look odd if had hung on, and more so if Keith let him. Hunk was covering for them in this mess of a situation. “Right, right,” Lance conceded easily, and let himself be pulled from between the arguing men.  

 

A chair scraped the metal floor, loud and unpleasant. Shiro had grabbed the closest chair, and plopped into it, tiredly. He placed the elbow of his good arm on his knee, with his galra arm still strung up in a sling. He looked damaged. “Hunk’s right. Maybe we should all take a breather, if it's alright with everyone.” It was blatantly a request and not an order.

 

The fight drained from Keith. Lance felt it like pulling a plug from a bath, it spiraled down and away. “Yeah,” he agreed with Shiro for the first time in months, and took a seat in the chair Saeg used when she was in the shack.

 

Murmured acceptance ripped over the room, and everyone else found a seat. It was awkward. Keith and Shiro’s impetuous display of their combined stubbornness left everyone hesitant. No one wanted to set either of them off again. Unfortunately that left Lance, and the resent display of his mother language.

 

Pidge was next to Lance, and leaned into his arm. “So…” They left the question suspended in the viscous atmosphere.

 

The wandering focus of the team centered on Lance. Curious, confused, and interested, all things he could handle. After everything that had happened, and all the darker secrets he held, it seemed silly to be scared of this. He was more annoyed than anything. “So, what?” He asked innocently, not intending to make this easy.

 

Pidge huffed and leaned against him harder. “Spanish?” They asked, like it was obvious, because it was.

 

Lance smirked. “Oh, that?” Again he refrained from actually answering their question. Keith snorted, and slapped a hand over his mouth, but his amusement leaked from between his fingers. Lance slid a sly glance over his beautiful boyfriend and their delight mingled between them. A little mischief would do a world of good for the tense situation.

 

Pidge adjusted their glasses, more aggressively than necessary, visibly annoyed. “Yes, that! When did you learn Spanish?!” They snapped.

 

It was too easy to push Pigeon’s buttons. Lance was going to continue his innocent act, dancing around their questions, but Hunk ended his fun. “Spanish is his first language, Pidge,” he explained offhandedly. Pins of irritation deflated Keith and Lance’s fun, but Pidge’s reaction was possibly better than if Lance had continued his game..

 

With true disbelief Pidge leaned away from Lance in order to look at him. The tilt of their body, and the wide set of their eyes communicated how ridiculous this all was. “How did we not know about this?” Pidge asked. The very idea that Lance could keep a secret seemed to take the wind from their sails.

 

Laughter bubbled up in Lance, and he held it down forcefully. He shrugged. “I am Cuban, you know.” His heritage was never made a secret, and had come up at least a few times in reference to his family.

 

“Yeah, but you always seemed so…” Pidge faltered, and shifted awkwardly. Their lips twisted a they swallowed their words.

 

Lance pondered their lack of social skills, it was sometimes glaringly obvious and was comparable to Keith’s level of ability. He ignored Keith’s small jab of annoyance, and quickly snapped back, “ _So_ , what?” The offence in his tone was mocking… mostly.

 

The tiny bit of tension that might of unwound from Pidge, twisted tighter, as their shoulders rose up to their ear in defence. “Well you never act like-” Their retort began sharp and ended abruptly in their mouth.

 

Hunk’s even voice muffled anything they were going to say, all of which they were likely to regret. “He grew up in Cuba, I didn't meet him until we were eleven.” The small amount of light shed on Lance’s past sent a ripple through the room that disrupted whatever high strung argument might have been brewing.

 

When the ripple settled, and the room was smooth as glass, it was surprisingly Shiro who spoke up. “Really?” He asked.

 

Shiro’s curiosity was clearly genuine, but that only exasperated Lance further, even though it was his own fault. He had hid, pulled the parts of himself he thought made him vulnerable behind a curtain, but he was still disappointed. They noticed when it counted, he remind himself. They had seen strength in him that he didn't believe was there, and followed his lead. A red whisper slipped up his back, and supported him, vindicating him. His friends had faith in him, now he just needed to fill in the blanks. It was a solemn, but not unhappy conclusion.  

 

Corran materialized from the forgotten, to the forefront of everyone's attention, with a question that illustrated how completely ridiculous Lance’s worries really were. “What’s a Cuban?” He asked.   

 

Allura leaned forward in her seat, clearly interested now that she might get a real explanation. “Yes, is Keith a Cuban? He also spoke the language Lance did.” She looked for an answer, innocently.

 

Lance laughed, sudden and loud. All of his concerns were absurd, they were in space, fucking space… and he was worrying about such petty things. He was Cuban, and proud, so fuck anyone else’s opinion on it. A tight ball loosened in his chest, he could be Cuban, and be himself, no rules. All the rapids in his heart died down along with his laughter. He glanced at Pidge, and their words from so many months ago skimmed the surface of calm waters. _“_ _When we go back to earth… Let's stay the same.”_ Lance couldn’t imagine reverting to his old self, and the sentiments of that moment with Pidge warmed him.

 

Everyone was looking at Lance, he shrugged, and waved off their questioning eyes, allowing the conversation to move on without him. Keith was the only person who continued to stare, sharing Lance’s amusement, and letting it dance in his eyes.

 

“Keith isn’t Cuban,” Shiro supplied. No one attempted to explain how Earth’s many cultures worked, that was a conversation for another day.

 

Pidge locked onto the most interesting tidbit as always. “But Allura made a good point, Keith did speak Spanish.”

 

Shiro immediately jumped on board with them. “Last I knew, Keith only spoke some Korean.” Suspicion was clear in his eyes, but Lance wasn’t sure what he was suspecting Keith of.  

 

“Lance taught me.” Simple, short and blunt, truly it was the most Keith answer. It was also wholly unhelpful. All the raging fire from the earlier argument with Shiro had burnt out. It left Keith tired, and with zero craps to give.

 

Irritated by Keith behavior, Lance was left to sweep up the mess. “Yeah, I just didn’t have anyone to speak it with, and Keith volunteered.” He smiled at Keith, pretending he didn’t just roll the ball back.

 

Everyone looked at Keith. He sighed, then shrugged. “I was bored.” He explained, putting no effort into his defence.

 

Hunk smiled, looking from Lance to Keith and then back to Lance again. Hunk nodded, as if everything was finally in the right place. He knew it was a big deal for Lance to teach anyone Spanish, it all made sense. Everyone else took Keith's explanation at face value, except Shiro. He was still eyeing Keith, almost leering.

 

“What's with the braids, Keith?” Pidge lifted the dip in conversation.

 

Keith ignored the question, his mood still dragging on the ground, rubbing Lance the wrong way. Instead he change the subject. “We should start actually planning,” he insisted.

 

The team was still off balance, and some of them unsure about the assigned roles, but no one argued this time.

 

_“If we can get Vii comfortable, he might drop some info.”_

 

_“I don’t know, seems a bit far fetched.”_

 

_“Listen, Vii’s got a real weakness for Yep-nari, if Keith can get close, Vii might do him a favor. Otherwise we go with plan B”_

 

_“Plan B?”_

 

_“Keith leads him on, gets him out of the bar, and Lance takes him out with the dart gun.”_

 

oOoOo

 

Lance pressed his hand to his own chest, covering where Keith's name resided. He rubbed the spot softly through his tank top, and pulled his hand away, brushing his fingertips over the Altean words as he did. He looked at his hand, lingering in the air between himself and the dismembered parts of his rifle on the floor. Lance was sitting in the middle of the loop of couches in one of the lounging areas.

 

Almost no one came here anymore. This area was abandoned, devoid of any copper pipes and bundled wires that invaded the rest of the Castle, like roots through the dirt. It calmed Lance, this place was untouched, a reminder of before they ended up trapped on Yeppeuda. He couldn’t say it was better times. It was before Keith and him were together, and before he grew into his role as Blue Paladin, but in many ways it was simpler, and easier. Lance needed things to be easier.

 

The battery to his left hummed, as it powered the single bulb that lit Lance’s work. A bubble of light in a cold and desolate reminder of the past. Lance slid his hand out of its limbo, and ran it over the freshly cleaned parts of his gun. The metal was cold, unlike his bayard, he missed his old weapon. This rifle was primitive, and savage, it tore into people, not like the graceful sweep of lasers he was used to. This gun brought to his attention the death as he committed it, no more playing pretend. He let those thoughts slide away. The amount of people he had killed was something he didn't think about often, and wouldn’t think about now. He did it for the team, for the universe, and especially for Keith.

 

The writhing turmoil, like red snakes in his mind, never stopped. Keith was always there, always upset. Nothing would be OK until they were off this planet. Only two days until the mission, then it would be over. Lance tapped his old earth phone that was on the floor, and frowned. Pidge had figured out how to charge the devices shortly after getting lost in space, so they had the date and time back on earth at their fingertips, as if it mattered. Tomorrow didn’t matter, he lied to himself. Just another day, a frame of time dictated by the orbit of a planet light years away. It didn’t meant anything, he tried to believe.

 

With a small growl Lance pushed the phone away, and turned to his work. With practiced ease, Lance began to reassemble the rifle. The scrapes and clicks of each piece falling into place was hypnotic. He tried to lean away from the pressing chaos in his bond, without blocking it out, using the rhythmic motions of his hands, and the repetitive sound of his assembly. Then he took the gun apart, put it together, took it apart. He could almost sink into the task, and let it sway him like a cool wind.

 

The sound of someone slipping through the gap he left in the door, disturbed his cyclical actions. He knew who it was. The churning pain in his mind was tethered to it. With a slide of cloth, and the warm press of a chest to Lance’s back, Keith held him. Arms around Lance’s middle, forehead against the back of Lance’s neck, legs folded on both sides of his body. He was trapped with the rifle parts he held.

 

“I’m sorry…” Spoken out loud, with the wash of a breath against Lance’s skin, the apology sagged at the end with futility.

 

Lance dropped the parts he held, and hugged the arms around him. _‘I understand,’_ he pressed back with body and mind, using the bond to speak. He really did understand. Keith couldn’t help the pain and fear, or the nervous anxiety he was feeling. He couldn’t control the panic he went into when Lance blocked him out. More than anyone else, Lance could empathise, even if it was hard to deal with.

 

“Say it,” Keith whispered, longing for more than thoughts.

 

Lance squeezed tighter. “I understand.”

 

“Thank you,” Keith accepted. Above a whisper, his voice cracked. He moved away enough for Lance to turn around and truly hold him.

 

Keith's face was pressed to Lance’s collarbone, where he placed a soft kiss on the tattoo that came from under the tank top. He took a deep breath, lifting Lance’s arms with the size of it, and opened up. “I hate what this place has made me. I hate that you’re fighting without me, while I stand around and pose for rich assholes. I’ve had enough rich assholes,” he growled at the end to cover his whine. Lance ran his hand through Keith dark hair and kept quite, allowing Keith the time to speak.

 

“I hate that I feel like I’m losing myself, going backwards. You’ve become so strong, and I’m just sitting on the sidelines.” Keith pulled back, and looked into Lance’s eyes. He ran a finger over a light scar that ran across Lance’s cheek to his mouth and the one on his upper arm. Then he touch the earrings on Lance’s right ear, and tapped the new one on his lip. Lastly he slid his open palm over Lance’s chest. And around his shoulder that was tattooed. “You’ve changed,” he concluded.

 

Each touch sent a shiver through Lance that ran down and bundled together. “For the better I hope.” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

 

Keith smirked back. “I would love any version of you.” He tipped forward, and lightly kissed the metal ball of Lance’s labret piercing, then whispered onto it. “But some changes are particularly appealing.”

 

Just how appealing Keith found it drifted down the bond. Lance was reaching up, ready to pull Keith in, but his hand met air. Keith had backed away, and looked at Lance with serious eyes. “But what I hate the most…” He tried to finish, and tumbled over the words with choppy breaths. The tortuous and confusing feelings that Lance associated with Keith's past, took hold. The fear that Lance didn't understand ripped the words from Keith. “I hate what I’m going to do on this mission, and that you’re going to see it-” He choked at the end, on anger, or pain, it was hard to tell.

 

Lance rushed forward, slamming Keith into the couch he was in front of with the force of his hug. It all came to the surface. Shame, fear, disgust, all things Keith felt, and was afraid Lance would feel about him after the mission.

 

“No, no, no… never,” Lance spoke into Keith’s ear, pushing away the layers of awful emotion that tried to suffocate them.

 

Keith clung back, breathing hard. Something was trying to escape, words were pushing for freedom. Lance could tell that Keith was trying to explain, to fill in the gaps about his past. He was fighting the years of restraints and walls he had built so that Lance would understand. They held each other until Keith was calm enough to sit back and speak.

 

They didn't move apart, only ended the hug. Keith's shoulders were down, and he looked up at Lance from under his hair. “A while ago, I told you that I met Shiro in the Big Brother program, and after, we continued to hangout.”

 

Lance nodded. He remember their first real conversation from all that time ago.

 

Every part of Keith tightened up, bracing himself. “Well that’s true, but it… it doesn’t really explain what happened.” He looked down at his hands. “I don’t think I can go into detail, but…” His voice wavered and he cleared his throat to cover. Lance ran his hands up and down Keith’s arms, and waited. The pressure in their bond reached a peak, and then broke. The story came rushing out.

 

“When I was twelve Shiro became my Big. I was living in foster care, and he was the only kind person I saw. My foster family was awful, there were at least eight kids at any given time, and the mom was overwhelmed. The dad… he wasn't nice.” Keith left the unspoken hanging for Lance to grasp. “Even when Shiro first became my Big, he was already in the Garrison, so he only saw me after classes and on weekends.”

 

Keith paused, looked up, and smiled something crooked. It tore at Lance, but he nodded for Keith to go on. He didn’t look away this time, and held Lance’s gaze...

 

_There were a handful of moments that Keith would never forget. Some of them were burned harshly into his memory, and others, he held onto with warmth and purpose. One memory he clutched close for many years, was the day Takashi Shirogane walked into his life._

 

_Keith was 12, small for his age, and weighed down by more troubles than most accumulated in a lifetime. The pressure of his childhood pulled him to the ground more often than not, but today was one of the few where he could stand. Even while on his feet, the weight sagged his shoulders, and tugged his head down. He stared at the dingy, speckled rug. It was a tight weave, meant to withstand for many years, industrial, and not for style or comfort. He scuffed it with his old sneakers, one size to big. They had once belonged to one of his many foster siblings, but he wasn’t sure which one. He glared at the pink flower on the sides._

 

_Today Keith had managed to stand under his premature troubles because he wasn’t in his foster home. The mother of his home enrolled him in a program, he didn’t know what it was, but it got him out of the house, which is probably what she wanted. He was the most troublesome of all the kids. He didn't complain, he wanted out as well, and was willing to go almost anywhere. An ember of hope awoke in Keith’s heart when he had clambered into the back of the old sedan that would take him to the community center. The orange glow permeated his limbs with energy that had been missing for two years, ever since his father disappeared. Keith tried to keep the ember from igniting, he didn't want it smothered by cold reality when everything would surly fell apart, just as it always did._

 

_When he had arrived, his foster mother left him on the street with no instructions, and Keith walked into the community building blind. The bustle of social workers, and other children, surrounded him. A woman with kind brown eyes asked if he was there to meet the Bigs, he wasn't sure what that meant, but nodded anyway._

 

_Now he stood alone in the corner of a large room, looking at the practical, but ugly rug under his feet, waiting for… something? The din of voices around him was muffled by his detachment, an intentional separation he had cultivated. He tried not to pay attention to the activity swirling through the room full of children and scattered adults, but he couldn’t ignore the sudden hush that fell._

 

_A stern looking lady entered the room. Keith would have dismissed her as some generic authority, except her clothes caught his attention. Rather than the pantsuit of the average social worker, this woman was in a severe gray pencil skirt. Below the skirt she had tall black boots, and above it a white and orange top that was cut by a black belt. The entire motif tickled Keith’s memory, but he couldn’t trap the thought in his mind. Behind the woman was a group of adults, or almost adults. Keith wouldn't have call them kids, but the tilt of their bodies as they awkwardly  held themselves gave away their youth… except one. Near the back of the crowd, one older boy stood tall, his confidence was clear in the line of his back._

 

_“Littles!” The lady in the skirt called out._

 

_Keith was caught off guard by the word. Littles? The stern lady looked around the room over her red rimmed glasses, meeting the eyes of every child, including Keith. If the kids were the Littles, then the haphazard gathering of older teens must be the Bigs that Keith had been told about. A sharp drop of fear streaked down his spine, he wasn’t sure what was going on, and that never ended well for him. Keith pulled his eyes away from the front of the room and went back to studying the rug. He fell into his Don’t-Notice-Me tactic, hoping for the best._

 

_When lady with the red glasses felt she had sufficient attention, she explained. “These first year flight students of the Galax Garrison mission program will be your Bigs, they have volunteered their free time for credit. Today is just for mingling, you do not have to choose a partner, but you can if you want. Anyone who is not paired off by the end of this meeting will come back at the same time next week, enjoy.”_

 

_The Garrison, that explained the woman’s outfit, the large building was on the edge of town and was hard to miss. Keith peeked up to watch the woman wave her arm at the teens behind her, ushering them forward. He quickly looked back down. Hopefully no one would notice him. He was small, and ratty looking, engulfed by a large red hoodie. Like a stray in the kennel, the one in the back will be ignored, because people think the shy one’s have behavioral problems, and they aren't wrong._

 

_Keith's plan was foiled almost as soon as it began. His inspection of the horrible rug was interrupted by a clean pair of sneakers. He noticed his own shoes looked twice as shabby next to the bigger ones, and it forced a shard of irrational anger between Keith's ribs. He focused on the burn as it cut deep, and was startled when the older boy spoke._

 

_“Hey, there!”_

 

_He sounded chipper, and it pressed on the jagged anger. Keith looked up. The straight backed confident boy from the rear of the group was smiling at him. His shoulders were broad, but lacked definition that would come with age, it made him seem unimposing. His hair was as black as Keith’s, cut short, and it gave away his asian heritage, which seemed mixed with something western. With a quick inspection of his features, Keith knew he wasn’t Korean like him._

 

_The extended silence didn’t seem to bother the older boy. He continued to smile and accepted Keith's study as he introduced himself. “I’m Takashi Shirogane, but people call me Shiro.” He extended a hand._

 

_Japanese then, Keith concluded while ignoring the hand. Shiro showed the first signs of being deterred, his neglected hand dropped and he laughed with a nervous edge. He rubbed the back of his clean cut hair, and flashed his white teeth. He looked well rested, carefree, and well mannered. He probably had parents who loved him. Keith hated him._

 

_Shiro leaned forward, and placed his hands on his knees to be eyes level with Keith. “Come on, we should chat, get to know each other, what do you say, buddy?”_

 

_The condescension twisted the anger in Keith chest, and it scrapped against his ribs. With a swift kick to the shin Shiro was on the floor, and Keith made a break for it. He didn't make it far, a large security man snagged him by the back of his oversized hoodie. Keith struggled for only a second, and considered slipping from the sweater and trying again, but this was his only hoodie. He sagged, and glanced back at his victim._

 

_Keith expected a lot of things. Anger, irritation, maybe even sadness, but he found none of the above. Shiro pulled himself up, with the help of a social worker who was apologizing profusely, and he looked at Keith with a wicked smirk. “He’s got spunk, I like him,” Shiro announced , shocking the social worker into silence._

 

 _“_ And we paired up at the end of that meeting,” Keith shrugged.    

 

A small and quiet snort interrupted the flow of the story. Lance didn’t try and hide how funny he thought it was. The bond rang with laughter. This was a serious moment, very serious… Lance tried to smooth out his smile into a straight line of ambivalence, but he couldn’t hold back completely. “Did you really kick him?” He asked, voice wavering with a suppressed chuckle.

 

Through all of the shame, and fear, a bit of happiness surface in Keith. He chuckled, and sighed. “Yeah, I did,” he admitted.

 

The small break in the heavy topic gave Lance a chance to pull Keith close again, wrapping him in a loving hug. Their minds brush together, closer, and Lance knew there was more to tell. Tragedy waited in the wings of this story. Keith released a soft sigh, and pressed his hands to Lance’s chest, pushing back enough to continue his tale. “Shiro didn’t visit me once every couple of weeks like most Bigs. He would set up outings two or three times a week.” Affection for Shiro that had been absent for the past few months, welled up in Keith's voice. “He started bringing me around his house, his parents loved me. They gave me a spare room that I used a couple times a week, but it was all unofficial…”

 

The warmth slipped from Keith’s voice, as color drained from his cheeks.

 

“When I was fourteen, Shiro went on his first mission, he was gone for two years.”

 

_Keith cried. Horrible, aching sobs that moved his body. All his foster siblings had left him alone in their small room. He was on a bed he usually shared with two other children. The screams of his foster mother were trapped between his ears, and he couldn’t pry them out. They burrowed a new space in him, where darker things could be harbored._

 

Pathetic, useless, suck it up, boys don’t cry, what was wrong with him? Who would want such a vile, useless boy? Nobody cared about him. Shut up!

 

_She had yelled close to his face, as if she could scream into his body and make it true, but Keith still couldn’t stop crying. Takashi was gone._

 

_His foster mother took a part of him every time she yelled, even though her screams were empty, like her. Keith could see that she had been gouged hollow long ago by the way she stared at the T.V.. He knew she screamed to try and fill herself with something, even sound, but it only echoed for a moment. Her soul was concave, bent with every blow she had taken, and every moment of life she had wasted. Her husband scraped at the dregs of her life, and she thrashed, but he took until she went still. She might have been a nice lady once, but he had ruined her, and when he was gone she blamed the children. It was still better when he was gone._

 

_Where the mother would force her frustration down the children's throats with words, the father pressed his anger into their skin with force. All his lessons sat black and blue inside them, and became green and yellow as the children learned them._

 

_Keith cried silently now. Enough had been taken for him to be still, and let his sorrow slid down his face. There wasn’t anything he could do. Without the Big Brother program, without Takashi, the Shirogane’s had no reason to keep him. Keith had thought about telling Takashi about the abuse, but something stopped him. He had an irrational fear that the mother’s hateful words were true, or that the father’s hand could reach over any distance. This fear had kept him quiet in front of Takashi, and in school._

 

_Day to day, Keith went on. He may not have been smart, or strong, or any number of things, but he persisted. Perseverance was his greatest talent. Without his mother, after his father, and through so many homes, he went on._

 

_A week passed. The first full week in his foster home in the last two years. With nothing to look forward to after school, Keith dragged his feet down the street from the bus stop. Fridays were the worst. Two days with no place to go, trapped with all the other forgotten children. He longed for the day he didn’t count himself among them, but had stopped hoping for it. Four of his foster siblings trailed behind him, three girls and a boy, near him in age. They went to the same middle school, and so they rode the same bus. Down the street Keith could see their house, small and similar to the ones around it._

 

_Something wasn’t right. Even from this distance Keith could tell the house was empty. All the lights were off, and both cars were gone. He began running, and didn’t look back to see if the others followed. He took all three steps up the stoop in a single leap, and stumbled to the front door._

 

_A large, and imposing padlock covered the door handle to keep it from turning. It was grey, with a number pad, and the logo of a local bank covered the entire front of it. Keith stared blankly at it until the sound of footsteps broke his shock. The other kids crowded behind him, looking over his shoulder. No one spoke, and it began to rain. Cold, heavy drops coated the even colder ground, sending a damp chill into the air. The children all huddled under the small overhang of the stoop, and waited._

 

Lance reached out for Keith. His long fingers went through dark hair, and he traced his thumb over Keith’s pale cheek. The sense of abandonment was striking, and suffocating. Like an unexpected pillow to the face, that was never lifted, and instead ruthlessly pressed harder. Keith leaned into the touch of Lance’s hand, and reeled back his emotions as he explained. “The foster family was gone, and we had slipped between the cracks. We had become those kids you hear about but never thought were real. We spent the night outside, None of us had a phone, we didn't know what to do, and we trusted no one. The next day a social worker found us, apparently a neighbor spotted us and made a call.  We were separated, all the homes were over filled, I was the only one sent to an orphanage farthest away. It was across the school district line, so I was being transferred. It was crowded, and awful. No one took me to register for my new school on monday, no one remembered my name, so I ran.”

 

Lance’s hand slid from Keith’s cheek, to his neck, and then gripped his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. Keith smiled, tight and reluctant, conveying that the story was far from over. “I hopped turnstiles and took trains, drifting. It was hard, and I was hungry for the first few days… then one day I noticed a man following me…”

 

Keith stopped suddenly and pulled away, grabbing Lance’s shoulders, pleading. “You have to understand, Lance, I was desperate, and young… and…” He was at a loss for a moment, and then gathered himself before Lance could answer, and pressed on.

 

_The worst parts of town had become Keith’s home. Giving up had crossed his mind only days into being a run away, but Keith was stubborn. He slept under a bridge during the day with a few other kids, and roamed free at night. After only a couple of months Keith had a firm grasp of pickpocketing, and spent his nights trying to get in peoples way on the street. It wasn’t easy, people avoided dirty looking kids, even in the bad parts of town._

 

_Keith was hungry, and tired. His red hoodie was faded, and hung off his thin frame. The nearby shelter he sometimes crashed in was out of meals, and no one had dared trip over Keith for fear of their belongings. His small band of runaways had gain a reputation, and changing cities was a possibility that was fast being the only choice. Keith didn't want to start over. It was hard enough to find a place depressed enough to overlook street rats, and even more work learning patrol paths to avoid getting caught out of school._

 

_The sky flashed, and a long, rolling rumble of thunder broke the air. Keith didn’t look up. He watched the first drop fall on his old shoe, and continued to shuffle down the sidewalk. His sweater became heavy with water, and his hair was stuck to his face, it was so long now that it touched his nose. Even in the downpour Keith felt eyes on his back. After months on the street he had grown the ability to be aware while seeming distracted. He hadn’t missed the tall man in the dark coat that had been following him for the last two blocks._

 

_Keith had seen this man before. The red light district was the one place all the kids avoided, but sometimes when things became desperate, Keith would go there to pick a drunk person's pocket. He had only done it twice, and the second time he had seen the man currently on his trail. Sheets of rain slapped the streets, but it didn’t deter the stalking man, and for a second, Keith was scared. His fear was pushed aside by deep gnawing hunger, and a weariness that went even deeper. The hole inside of him that was gouged out by hateful words and forceful hands had expanded, now it was a tunnel into his heart._

 

_Ahead and to the left was a dark alley. Each step closer made the hunger stab, his heart ached, and his resolve crack a little more. Keith didn’t know how to ask for help anymore, but he had also forgotten how to give up. Keith stopped next to the alley, and looked back at the stalking man. Not from his peripheral, or from under his bangs, but directly at him, and he turned to walk into the dark._

 

_Keith hit the brick wall with unexpected force. His back ached, and his head throbbed, but all he could focus on was the man's hands on his chest, his neck, and down to his hips. Keith’s entire view consisted of the mans black coat, and damp white shirt. His world came to a point, and he froze. Hot, clammy skin slid under his shirt, cold rain, warm breath, and he was pressed harder into the wall, engulfed by the larger body. Then he was numb, he couldn’t breath, and his heart stopped. His chest was an empty cavern, vacant without his will._

 

_Keith hadn’t expected it to be like this. He thought it would be easy to let the man close, lift his wallet, and fight. It was so fast, or maybe his thought were slow. The adrenaline that pushed his heart, and starved his lungs, also chained him down. He didn’t scream, even though he was scared, the cry was locked in his chest._

 

_The man grabbed Keith’s hair and yanked down. The pain hooked something inside Keith, pulled, and freed his limbs. He ignored the sharp stab of the pavement on his knees as he dropped, and instead focused on the mans pants. The square outline of a wallet was visible in his front pocket. Keith reached up with both hands, as if to open the man's fly, but one hand reached for the wallet, while the other jabbed forwards in a swift punch._

 

_Keith ran, leaving the man clutching his groin._

 

With honest eyes, Keith pleaded again for Lance to understand. Like he had said, he was desperate, hungry, and worn from life. “He didn’t get anything from me. I let him close, stole his wallet, and ran. I almost didn't get away before he… I was so scared,” he whispered. A vale was pulled back from the only part of Keith, Lance had never seen. It was raw, and unaccustomed to the light. It thickened Keith’s voice as he spoke. “For a little while that's how I lived. I lured men in, stole from them, and ran before they got anything from me. It was dangerous, and I almost didn't make it out sometimes. But, when I was almost fifteen… I met the first mark that offered me more.” Keith looked down again, still holding Lance shoulders. “I had a reputation for picking and running, and the guy told me that some men planned to corner me and... I had seen him around a few times, so I knew he was probably telling the truth. He offered me protection, and a place to stay, as long as I did what he wanted and didn't leave until he said so… I took his offer.” The confession was so quiet it was almost a breath, only the edge of tears gave it substance and sound.

 

Lance tried to speak, or to touch Keith through the bond, but he was rebuffed. Keith held him away, physically and mentally, determined to finish his story before he changed his mind. With a shuddering breath he went on. “He took me home, cleaned me up, and kept me for a couple months, until he was bored. Then I found another, and another, for almost a year I just hopped from mark to mark. About five total… That's how Shiro found me. He was furious once he tracked me down.”

 

_Keith stared at the wall opposite from where he lay. The bed was short, but wide, covered in white sheets and a white down comforter that was pushed to the end in a pile. Keith was on his stomach, sprawled over most of the bed. The white wall was as good a thing to stare at as anything else. His eyes trailed over the line of clothes strewn across the floor, from his boxers by the bed, to his old red hoodie by the hallway to the front door. He didn’t think about it. He never thought about anything, not anymore._

 

_Slowly, a finger trailed up Keith’s bareback. It slid over bruises, bites, and scratches, black, blue and red on his pale body. His current companion was a little rough, but he had a nice loft. A loft, a car, a decent bank account, and a decisive personality. Why would Keith ever need to think about anything again, when this man did it all? Keith hated it. He never left the loft alone, he wasn’t allowed to drive the car, so he only went where he was taken. His life was paired down to a much smaller world._

 

_The trailing finger flattened out to a hand and slipped back to cup Keith’s ass. A warm body pressed to his back, and hot breath skimmed his cheek._

 

_“Pálido,” the man breathed the nickname into Keith's ear. “una vez más,” he ordered._

 

_This one didn't speak much english, just enough to give basic orders, but Keith understood ‘más’. He wanted to pull away, to take back his body and his life, but he didn’t. A defeated part of himself had become dead weight on his fighting spirit. It convinced him that this was survival, this was how it had to be, and it was strangely comforting as much as it was upsetting._

 

_Keith thought about leaving, trying again at life. It was an uplifting thought that was quickly followed by the smothering fear of decisions. He was tied down by his blank mind, restrained to the point of being incapacitated by dependency, but at least the ropes were velvet._

 

_The man's hand began to explore more forcefully, and Keith gave in with a resigned sigh- A loud knock at the door interrupted._

 

_With an irritated groan the man rolled off the bed and threw on some slacks._

 

_“Stay,” He ordered Keith with a heavy accent, and wandered to the front door._

 

_The entrance to the loft was in a hallway around the corner, out of sight. Shiny hardwood covered every inch of the floor, including the hall to the front door. It facilitated the echo that allowed Keith to eavesdrop. If he stayed very still and took shallow breaths, he could just managed to make out most of the conversation._

 

_“Hola, Officer…”_

 

_“Have you seen this…”_

 

_“No, no. I no see that boy.”_

 

_“Thank you for… time.”_

 

_When the man came back, he was pale, and he surveyed Keith critically. The longer he stared the more fear overtook his expression. “You need to go,” he hollered suddenly, grabbing Keith by the arms and hauling him off the bed._

 

_Keith toppled to the floor. Before he could scramble upright a bundle of clothes landed on his chest. The man was rambling in spanish, and Keith didn’t understand a word, but a rough hand pulled him to his feet and pushed him towards the exit. Keith was struggling into his pants while being herded across the room. When he finished fastening his jeans the man began to drag him more insistently, shirt be damned apparently._

 

_Another knock on the door surprised them, this one was sharp and loud. The man suddenly began pushing Keith back into the room. Confused, Keith pulled his shirt on quickly._

 

_The knocking increased in volume. The door was shaking in its frame with every pound, and a loud, commanding voice insisted the door be opened, only slightly muffled by the wood._

 

_“Open up! We know he's in there!” The voice yelled. It sounded like the officer from before._

 

_The man ignored the order and continued pushing Keith to the window. “GO!” He yelled, pointing to the fire escape._

 

_Was he insane?! Keith was not going to climb down the escape, it was ten floors down!_

 

_The officer continued to yell. “Open now, or I will use force!”_

 

_Keith knew that was unlikely, his time on the street had educated him in the do’s and don’t of the police. If they had probable cause they would have broken down the door already, they were bluffing. The officer stopped yelling, and a semi loud argument broke out between him and someone else. Their voices weren’t discernible through the door._

 

_The man was struggling to open a large warehouse window with the roman shades, and warm pine trim. Keith watched apathetically, and didn't offer to help. Whatever trouble this man was in, it had nothing to do with Keith, and he felt nothing for him. He often felt nothing lately… then another voice came through the door, as if to contradict him._

 

_“Keith!” His name was yelled with concern, and thick with emotion._

 

_It punched Keith in his chest, and knocked the prevailing numbness from him with brutal force. He was twelve again, lost, sad, and reaching for stability. Someone had come back for him, for the first time in Keith’s life, someone was looking for him. A fire roared in his chest. It was longing so powerful that it moved his limbs, and shriveled his doubts and fears._

 

_“Takashi!?” Keith called out, as he ran for the door, ignoring the man screaming for him to stop._

 

_He ripped the door open, and all the breath left him. He had heard the voice, but he hadn’t believed it, not completely. But now Shiro was there next to the policeman, and very real. Shiro pulled him over the threshold and into his arms, before the first tear fell. Takashi’s larger frame enveloped Keith, it was comforting, and scary… Shiro had grown._

 

_He was angry. Keith could see it, under layers of concern and relief. It was tightly contained, but it was in Shiro's eyes and the tight tilt of his lips. Heat flooded Keith's body, dried his lungs, and made it hard to breath. Shame overcame him. For the first time since that dark alley where it all started, Keith was ashamed. He never wanted Takashi to see this, but he also never expected to see him again, just like everyone else who left._

 

_Later, Keith was shirtless on a kitchen stool in the Shirogane home. Mrs. Shirogane was was fussing over the scratches on his back with some ointment. Nausea rolled Keith's stomach. He didn't deserve this care, he was disgusting, and this wonderful lady was wasting her worry on him, and her guilt... He could see it on her face, every time she passed in front of him, it was heavy in her eyes. He wasn’t worth it._

 

_This wasn’t her fault, and he wanted her to know._

 

_“It’s not your fault.” It was the first thing he had said since he’d yelled Shiro’s name. His voice cracked, and he ducked his head._

 

 _Mrs. Shirogane’s hands stilled. “It’s not_ your _fault, Keith.” She was quiet, but vehement._

 

_She could have said any number of things. Denial, or confirmation were what he had expected, but the firm and ernest absolution was a surprise. Of course it was his fault, his choice, he did this to himself with his own actions. He felt the truth like a stone in his chest, but he couldn't cough it out. Instead, for some reason, he cried._

 

_Hours later Keith was in bed, in the spare room he once hoped would be his. Shiro sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing Keith's hair down._

 

_“How did you find me?” Keith whispered. He allowed himself to indulge in the comfort, and tried to ignore all the bad thoughts the touch invoked._

 

_Shiro sighed, and pulled his hand away to Keith’s reluctant relief. “Honestly, it was half luck,” he admitted. He shifted to lie next to Keith, and looked at the ceiling as he spoke. “When I discovered your foster family was gone, I went to social services. They told me what orphanage you’d been sent to, but you weren’t there, and there was no record of you. So I went to the police.” He glanced at Keith without turning his head, trying to convey how he had felt, and then he looked back at the ceiling. “The police didn't have a missing persons record of you, but one officer suggested that you might have run. He told me about a slum a couple towns over where runaways gathered. It was a long shot, but I had no other leads.” He let silence settle, as if reluctant to explain more._

 

_“But how did-”_

 

_The words died in Keith’s mouth when Shiro turned his head to looked directly at him. “You have quite the reputation in that area.” Shiro couldn't hide his disappointment, and the tinge of disgust in his voice. It struck Keith, but he took the hit._

 

 _Shiro looked back up at the stucco ceiling, and took a breath slowly through his nose, calming himself. “I asked around, and easily found out where your current… conquest lived. When the officer knocked and showed that_ man _-” He spat the word. “-your picture, I saw your hoodie on the floor in the hall-”_

 

_“So you yelled my name, because if I responded it would give you probable cause,” Keith concluded for him, putting it together himself. “What's going to happen to that man?” He asked. Morbid curiosity got the best of him._

 

_“He’s going to jail, his laptop was full of…” Shiro let the silence answer._

 

_Keith nodded, his face was blank, and his eyes far away. The separation he had cultivated had become a chasm without an end. “I can give names, if the cops want…” he offered._

 

_Shiro nodded, a curt movement. “I’m going to pull some strings at the Garrison, I know some high up people there, they can push through the paperwork.”_

 

_“Paperwork?” Keith didn’t understand._

 

_Shiro smiled for the first time since he finding Keith. It was small but genuine. “My parents are going to foster you, and you’re coming to the Garrison with me,” he stated, it wasn’t an option._

 

_Keith’s heart jumped. “What?” the question slipped from his mouth._

 

_Shiro turned his head, the smile dropped, and his eyes narrowed. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” he said firmly, and looked back at the ceiling._

 

_Keith watched Takashi’s jaw muscle twitch and his teeth grind. It hurt something in his chest to be the cause of that expression, but he couldn’t deny he was excited to be Takashi’s foster brother. It was selfish, Takashi’s life would be so much easier without Keith, but he wasn’t willing to give this up._

 

_Shiro was obviously still angry. Keith understood. After all the time and effort Shiro had invested in finding Keith, only to discover what he had become, he would have been angry too. Keith was lucky that he was allowed to stay, and he didn't want to give Takashi a reason to leave him behind, so he would work hard. It was important that Shiro not waste his time anymore, and that he achieved his goals, Because Shiro was important, and Keith wasn’t._

 

“Shiro brought me to the garrison as live in family, the paperwork was a bitch, but after, I spent the next year getting caught up on my education, and having combat and flight skills drilled into me by Shiro… Then I enrolled when I was almost seventeen. And a couple months after I joined the Garrison...” Keith looked up, and smirked the best he could with glassy eyes.

 

“I showed up,” Lance finished.

 

“You showed up,” Keith agreed.

 

Lance didn't know what to say, but he let his feelings speak down the bond. Cool, soothing water of Lance’s love washed over the raw, exposed parts of Keith. Lance still loved him, still wanted him. It was a lot to take in, but he couldn’t fault Keith for his past, that would be hypocritical. Truthfully, Lance didn't really care what Keith had done, only what the events had done to Keith, and it was a lot. There was damage that Lance couldn’t fix, this was bigger than him, than the two of them together. There was a canyon Lance had to cross, and had been slowly bridging since he met Keith, and now he understood why it was there.

 

“I was such an ass to you when we met, and it wasn’t long after everything you went through… I’m sorry,” Lance sighed. The strange, comforting fear that bound Keith and had confused Lance, made sense now. He understood so much more. Why Keith didn't like people touching him, why he reacted to a sexual relationship the way he did, why he hated his job, and even the mention slaves... why he thought no one would keep him…

 

Keith looked bewildered. “Is that all you took from this?” He shook his head. “I didn’t mind, you didn’t treat me like I was made of glass, or special, it was kinda nice,” he assured.

 

Keith was reassuring Lance. After everything he had been through, he was trying to make sure Lance felt good, that Lance was taken care of. Keith wanted to make sure his past wasn’t hurting _Lance._ Such intense empathy, It burned, and rose the the surface. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lance cried. Thick and lined with tears.

 

“Wha-” Keith tried to ask, but Lance pulled him close, and held on tight.

 

Keith had explained his past like a story about someone far away, but Lance knew better, he could see it on Keith face, and feel it in their bond. He had pushed the pain so far down, it forced its way out through Lance. Keith should have been crying, but with soft sobs, Lance did it for him. He pulled back and rambled against Keith's lips between tears and kisses. “You are so good, and so strong. I love you, no matter what,” he praised and promised, coating Keith’s pain with his affection.

 

With a shove, Lance pushed back against Keith’s repression. He kissed Keith again, with a hard press of lips, and pushed just as hard through the bond. He reversed the flow of emotions, allowing Keith to have his pain back. Lance leaned away, and held Keith's face, running his thumb over pale cheeks. “Shiro knows…” He whispered as the pieces came together. “He knows, and he volunteered you to…” Never has so much anger sprung up in Lance at once, so much that it clogged his heart, and left him muddled in it.

 

Keith shrugged and tried to look down, but Lance held him in place. “Ace… its…” He was going to say ‘it’s OK’, but it wasn’t. Keith wasn’t OK.

 

Lance felt something warm slid over his fingers. The jammed up anger washed away in Keith’s tears, leaving him clearer, free to feel righteous, and indignant. He wiped tear tracks with his thumbs, and pressed his forehead to Keith's. Tears ran again, and Lance left them. “You don’t have to be OK, Rojo,” he whispered.

 

Keith shook his head, rubbing his forehead against Lance’s. “I thought Shiro understood-” He took a shaking breath. “But in dead space he-” The disappointment, and betrayal ran hot, and closed Keith's throat.

 

Lance wanted to make this better, send his own emotions down the bond and nudge the pain out of place, But he couldn’t. It was only a bandage, and Keith needed to heal. Lance fought to keep himself grounded, despite the echo of Keith’s feelings, and nodded. “Shiro figured out you had feelings for me, but thought I was with Allura. He told me he tried to warn you away from me,” Lance supplied.

 

“Yeah,” Keith rasped against his tears. “He told me you weren’t one of my marks. He thought I was just going to use you or I was trying to get something. I tried to tell him this was different, but he didn’t believe me… and the worst part is, he thinks he's protecting me… and dosen't trust me.” It hurt more than explaining his past, it was too close, too resent, and Lance felt it dig deep. “I wanted you to know about this before the mission… what I’m going to do- be like- I won’t- but I just…” Keith held Lance’s gaze, even as fresh fears welled and his breath hitched.

 

Lance hugged Keith close. He had suspected abuse in Keith’s past, but this was worse than he had imagined. “I understand. I’m glad you told me.”

Lance would tell Keith about Maritza, but not now. This wasn’t the time.

 

Not yet.

 

oOoOo

 

Lance knew what happiness was, he knew better than most people. The long shadow of his life was cast in the low hanging light of happiness. Being happy was fleeting, like running to your bed in the dark, covering your feet with a blanket, and being absolutely sure that the monster’s clawed hand just missed your ankle. It was intense and tiring. Contentment, was the soft paisley blanket pulled over your head. It deflected all the terrors that would snatch you into the night. Easy to hold up, feather light. A comforting darkness.

 

But, it was a long time before Lance could close his eyes in the dark.

 

Then, Keith came along, and he was an an enigma. intense and soft, a blanket and a rush. Lance wanted to run with him, hide with him, close his eyes and be brave with him. Later he learned, that not everyone lays under their contentment, and some people never close their eyes. Keith never had a bed to run to, or a blanket to hide under. He stood in the dark, and didn’t know what a shadow was. It made Lance wonder if contentment was something meant to be held up, or if maybe, it was meant to hold him up instead.

 

They were the blind leading the blind, trying to navigate the terrain of existence.

 

Tomorrow. The mission that might get them off this rusty planet was only hours away. Lance hid from his team, and even from Keith. He had dragged a battery pack all the way to the hanger, and managed to haphazardly hook up the door.

 

Now he sat alone, on a shell that had once housed a great beast. Blue sat cold, and empty. Lance had crawled up her paw, and pressed his hand to the unresponsive metal. Ragged ends of his old bond with the Lion ached, drifting loose, caught in a current of rapid thoughts. Without meditation Lance had been slipping backwards. The only thing that had grounded him before Keith, was Blue, but Blue was gone and Keith was adrift, lost alongside Lance. So, he came here, looking for something to keep him from staring into the mirror. He needed to keep it together until this was over.

 

Lance rubbed a scratch in the blue paint. An unwanted sensation simmered under his skin. It eroded healing pathways in his heart with a familiar acidic disgust that Lance had tried so hard to leave behind. He twisted the new piercing under his lip, and let the sting ground him. Lance’s contentment soaked up his despair, becoming a burden to hold up. Somewhere else, Keith rained down insecurities and fear through their bond, adding his own weight onto Lance’s shaking arms. They couldn’t distribute the weight between so few supports.

 

All this time, Lance and Keith had been pressing their hands to each others spidering gaps, holding the other together. They had been stemming the leak in the weakest part of a dam. The cracks grew everyday, a constant threat of a fracture, and Lance felt like a failure. Broken people couldn’t fix each other, Lance couldn’t even be completely open, even after Keith had. Learning about Keith’s past actually made it harder for Lance to open up. He couldn’t expect Keith to lift Lance’s burdens when his own were so heavy. Not now, right before the mission he was so distraught over.

 

The ocean welled up in Lance’s chest, and he wanted to let himself drown. To surrender his failing existence to the forces of his own inability. He would fracture, disintegrate into dust, and dissolve in the anxious waters of his own self deprecation. The pressure was immense, and he couldn’t breath… But, he loved Keith. Loved him despite their inability to fix each other, because that's not what love was for. It was a foundation to build on, and something to fortify self improvement. Without effort, love is just an empty parking lot. Solid, but barren, and uninhabitable.

 

Air ruched back, and some of the worry drained away. Lance had to believe that they could get through this, that they were more than their pasts. He would tell Keith everything after the mission.

 

Slowly, Lance ran his hand over Blue’s large paw beneath him, and attempted to relax. No one would be looking for him. Keith and Allura were at work, Pidge was with their mentor, Coran was with the scrappers, and Shiro avoided Lance, and Keith. Hunk wouldn’t look for him either, because he knew better than to bother Lance on his birthday.

 

He had survived one more year. He was alive, and Maritza wasn’t.

 

Lance wanted to meditate, and isolate himself, but Keith’s grip in the bond reminded him he needed to remain. He couldn’t shrug off what Keith asked him to support, even as his mind wavered, and his knees buckled with the very idea of it. Without him, Keith would crumble. It was almost over, then they could rest.

 

Lance fell back, stretching out over the cold metal. What a shitty birthday.

 

Hours later Lance pulled himself up, and climbed down from his perch on Blue. His fingers trailed over her cold body as he stepped away, and he lamented the bubbling energy that used to warm the metal. One more step back and he lost contact. His skin tingled with the memory of the Lion’s quintessence, and he anticipated it returning when they left this planet. Every cell in his body reached out for Blue, longing for the day she could reach back to him.  

 

oOoOo

 

“Where have you been?” It wasn’t an accusation, Keith could have found Lance. He could have followed the gossamer thread their bond had become under the strain of their mutual melancholy. It was pulled and stretched on the rack of their unfortunate situation, and neither of them wanted to test it’s fortitude. So, Keith had waited in Lance’s room, and Lance pretended he had real solitude.

 

“With Blue,” Lance answered. His body eclipsed the light from the still open door, and the shadow of his body obscured his view of Keith on the bed, but he felt the frown he couldn’t see.

 

He crossed the room, allowing the door to stutter shut. He didn't change into pajamas, and didn’t trust himself in the bathroom, with the mirror. Instead, he removed his shirt, sat on the edge of his own bed, and looked at Keith’s face in the bloom of the tablet he held in his lap.

 

“So tomorrow?” Lance muttered.

 

“Lets not think about it,” Keith ended the topic. He turned off the tablet, leaving them in the dark.

 

Lance was relieved, he didn’t actually want to talk about the mission. He heard the click of the tablet being set on the floor, and the smooth slide of blankets as Keith made room for him. No matter if they fought, differed in opinion, or were stressed by events outside of their control, Keith would never withhold or reject affection. There was never a period of silent treatment -not that it would be easy with the mind link- and he never shied away from from Lance’s touch, not anymore. Only on occasion -very rarely- would one of them request alone time, and the other would comply. It was a testament to their devotion, and their love, but also to their pasts. Sure, they had their problems, pretty big ones if Lance was being honest, but respect, wasn’t one of them.

 

Lance, honest-to-god loved the man for it. With every moment of his existence, he appreciated Keith, and would return as much as he received. It didn’t mean they were perfect, or that Lance wouldn’t have to fess up one day, but that wasn’t relevant for right now. He removed his hair clip, and crawled under the covers.

 

Keith called to Lance with red velvet touches to his thoughts. All the troubles between and around them washed away, just for now, only for each other. Keith ran his hand up Lance’s chest, over his neck, and into his hair. They were side by side, facing each other, and Lance could barely see the shine of Keith’s eyes in the dark.

 

Keith grabbed a handful of hair, firm but not painful, and pulled until their foreheads touch. With the breath they shared, he whispered, “I love you.”

 

Lance loved him too, but his mouth was suddenly occupied, and his thoughts cloudy. It was alright, Keith knew.

 

With a light push, Lance was on his back, with Keith on all fours above him, still kissing him. Lance wanted more, and Keith opened his mouth, tilted his head, and offered more. Their intentions mingle, but Keith's flew by like a flip book, quick and needy. Before Lance could grasp one direction or the other, Keith's hand flick open the button of Lance’s pants, and slipped inside to grab his already hard arousal. They moaned together into the kiss, as both took pleasure in the firm pulls of Keith hand. Again, Keith's intentions flickered by, wanting and unsure, but he let go of Lance’s erection and his hand slid around to his ass. Shaking, Keith’s finger crept between Lance’s cheeks and pressed lightly.

 

Lance gasped, and Keith froze. Their kiss broke.

 

Not since that disastrous night months ago, when Lance first suspected Keith’s history, had Keith tried to top. They never talked about it, only felt out what was comfortable. Now, with their lips almost touching, Keith asked with the press of his finger. He rubbed small circles around Lance’s entrance, and waited.

 

“Yes,” Lance breathed, completely certain.

 

“Are you su-”

 

“You know I am,” Lance interrupted, because he knew Keith did, it was clear in the bond. “I’m not afraid,” he assured.

 

Lance grabbed Keith’s hair -that dumb, beautiful hair- and pulled him in for a rough kiss. Then in the same breath he stole from Keith, he hissed, “Take me.”

 

The floodgate unlocked. A broiling heat swept out from under Keith’s skin, and Lance was filled with it. The aggression was inherent to Keith’s core being, but full of hunger, and lust, and a hard, biting love that wanted to sink its teething into the softest parts of Lance. He had glimpsed this side of Keith from behind the bars where he kept it locked, and had tasted it in the small room of the shack when Keith and him were first intimate. Then he’d feared it, the first time it had truly been freed, but now he embraced it. It was a part of Keith, and Lance trusted him, wanted all of him. The aggressive -possessive- behavior tugged at Lance, digging deep for something, and finding it.

 

Keith quickly reached under the pillow and pulled out a small bottle. Lance tried not to recall the very uncomfortable conversation he had with Dam-Saeg concerning its use when he’d first asked for it, he wanted to stay aroused. The embarrassing memory was ripped away when both his wrist were suddenly above his head in one of Keith’s hands, while the over hand pulled his pants and boxers down to his knees.

 

Lance struggled a little, but instead of fear, the resistance sent a curl of heat down his body. Keith was pleased, Lance could feel it in his mind, and the hard press of Keith groin into his thigh. He pushed his hips into Lance’s again, and kissed him, hard. The pleasure, and mild pain, echoed between them, and Lance relinquished control. At the slightest sign of fear, Keith would stop, he was sure of it.

 

The kiss traveled down Lance’s jaw and neck, along with little bites and loud moans. A slick finger slowly pressed until it entered Lance, and it was a swift push up to the knuckle. He gasped, and then yelped when Keith bit down at the junction of his neck and shoulder. It hurt, but Lance was ridiculously -and surprisingly- turned on by it. Learn something new everyday, the stray thought almost made him laugh.

 

Keith shifted, without releasing Lance’s wrist or removing his finger. He settled between Lance’s legs, and used his foot to push Lance’s pants down from his knees until the were removed. He loomed over Lance, fully clothed between his legs, and added a second finger. Lance arced off the bed in surprise and pleasure, and Keith bit the same spot as before, muffling his moan from their combined pleasure.

 

“God, Rojo-” Lance tried to plead, but it ended in a choked scream when Keith bit down harder.

 

The fingers slid out of Lance. Keith released his bite, softly kissed the forming bruise, and nipped at Lance’s collarbone. He could hear Keith undo his pants single handedly, just enough to release himself, as he sucked a hickey into Lance’s skin, over and over. The click of the lube cap was loud between their gasps and moans, then Keith reached out and pulled the pillow from behind Lance’s head. He understood, lifted his hips, and allowed Keith to slide it under, wrapping his legs around Keith’s waste.

 

A feather light touch of lips met Lance’s labret stud, as Keith gently pressed against Lance’s entrance. He pulled back, and pushed forwards again, a little harder, but still not breaching. With very small, slow, and repeating thrust, Keith opened Lance.

 

Lance hissed into Keith's mouth, and tried to push back, but Keith held his hips still with his free hand, swallowing all the sounds he made. Agonizingly slowly, Keith stretched Lance with shallow rutting. His fingers were going numb, his wrist ached, and Lance was starting to lose his mind with want. He knew Keith could feel it, but it only seemed to drive his determination to torture Lance.

 

One more thrust and Keith’s head was inside him, and he held still. Lance burned, his cock throbbed against his abdomen, and it was so good. Keith pulled back a tiny bit, broke the long suffocating kiss, then jerked his hips forward completely, and bit down on blooming bruise from before.

 

Lance screamed, thanking the ancient Altean that decided to make the castle walls soundproof. They bled together, as all of Lance was encompassed by Keith. The tapered end of Lance’s scream was full of his name. “Keith, Keith, Rojo, Babe,” he chanted softly.

 

Keith remained still, panting against abused skin. He released Lance’s wrists, and grabbed his hips. Lance immediately put his arms around Keith, holding on, digging into the skin of Keith back unconsciously. “Rojo, baby,” he pleased.

 

Keith responded with a growl as he ran his nose under Lance’s jaw, and placed a soft kiss. The growl was low, but loud, and reverberated through Lance’s chest. It brough one word to mind, Galra. Lance wasn’t repulsed as expected, he was enthralled. He wanted Keith more, and pushed his hips forward.

 

The growl intensified, Keith's hands tightened on his hips. He pulled back, and snapped forward. Lance screamed again, it ended with a sob of pleasure that Keith muffled with a kiss. He set a hard, and fast pace, and Lance could only hold on, clawing at Keith’s back.

 

As usual the combined sensations through the bond were overwhelming, but this time it was so much more. Lance felt like he was being claimed, as if Keith was making up for all the times Lance had topped, and he loved it. His body rocked, and Keith was relentless, and for a second Lance wondered how aware Keith was as he kissed, and bit, and fucked Lance into the mattress.

 

Then, when release was nearing, Keith slowed down. Although a part of Lance was disappointed, another part was a little relieved, because as Keith strokes slowed, he seemed to come back to himself, and Lance wanted to experience this with him.

 

Keith’s hips rolled, slowly, but just as hard. Each thrust brought them closer to the end and Keith began whispering, almost praying to Lance.

 

“Ace, Ace, Lance, Baby, yesyesyes.”

 

Lance grabbed Keith's hips, pulling him deeper with every push. “Yes, Babe!” He called out. They were on the edge, and Keith sped up again. In a few fast, hard thrusts, Keith bit Lance again to muffle his yell. His hips stuttered, and he grabbed Lance in his hand, stroking him, as they came at the same time.

 

The thin line of their stained bond bloomed, and the edges between them blurred. There was no blue or red, only a flaming ocean of purple as they completely overlapped. Some last bit missing, connected. But this feeling of the bond growing, changing, wasn’t new, and they would accept it without comment, whatever it might bring.

 

Keith collapsed on top, and Lance held him close.

 

Breathing hard, Lance felt spent, claimed, covered in bruises, and completely loved. “Best. Birthday. Ever,” he huffed between breaths.

 

Keith jerked back onto his elbows and looked down at Lance, shocked. “It's your Birthday?!”

 

Lance burst out laughing. He probably shouldn’t have, the annoyed look on Keith face made that clear, but he had looked so affronted by the idea that it was Lance’s birthday and he hadn’t known, that it was hilarious, especially given the situation.

 

“It’s not funny,” Keith insisted, sitting up completely, buttoning himself up, and slapping the light control on the wall.

 

Their bond was so seamless at that moment, that Lance was almost sure Keith's irritation was his own. He wondered at that for a moment, they were often closer after sex, but this was a tad more than usual. It would probably slacken as it usually did, so Lance Ignored it for the moment. He was about to tease the crap out of Keith, when the prickly red irritation churned with guilt.

 

Keith eyes roamed over Lance’s chest, pausing on each red welt and bruise. Lance sat up quickly, and cupped Keith’s face, weaving his long fingers into soft black hair. “Hey,” he smiled softly into the word.

 

Keith’s eyes snapped to Lance’s and he opened his mouth to speak, but Lance held the apology in with his hand. He heard it in his mind long before Keith tried to say it, and he really didn’t want to hear it again.

 

“Don’t,” he ordered.

 

Keith tried to pull his face away, but Lance trapped it firmly between his hands. With his mouth free Keith tried to speak again, but stopped when Lance’s objection crashed into him, as a cold wave, before he even made a sound.

 

“No, don’t Rojo,” Lance warned. “You don’t get to feel bad about this, because I loved it.” He tried to impress upon Keith that he meant it, but guilt still rolled between them.

 

Lance signed, over dramatic, as if he was put upon by having a wonderful, loving boyfriend that worried about him. “Listen, babe. Do I feel upset?” He tried to reason.

 

Keith shook his head slowly in the cage of Lance’s hands.

 

“OK, good. Do I feel scared, or angry or anything else bad?” Lance continued.

 

Again, Keith shook his head. “You…” he faltered. “You feel…” he stopped again, trying to define the emotion.

 

“Wanted,” Lance filled in. It was true. He had never felt so wanted by someone in his life, as he did tonight, and it was so much better than needed. He shrugged and rubbed the spot Keith had bit the most. “Also, it was hot,” he amended with a smirk.

 

There would be a mark for a while, but it really wasn’t any worse than a particularly aggressive hickey- with teeth marks. With Keith's past, Lance understood why he might think he had done something wrong, especially when it had scared Lance in the beginning, when their relationship was young. When Lance topped, it was different, softer. He wouldn’t behave this way with Keith, unless he wanted Lance too, then all bets were off. But, it wasn’t what Keith needed, he needed to feel treasured, which is exactly what Lance did. In this way, he was sure they could be what the other needed, with some work.  

 

The shine in Keith’s eyes, coupled with a deep sense of belonging -red and silky under Lance’s placid waters- was the acceptance he had been hoping for.

 

Keith blinked the tears away, and slapped Lance on the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your Birthday!?” He snapped, completely flipping the script. Apparently the subject was resolved, and closed.

 

Lance guarded himself against another smack, and chuckled unconvincingly. “I don’t know what you mean! Come on, Babe. Get naked and cuddle with me.”

 

“Don’t try and distract me,” Keith glowered, but the exasperation wasn’t there to back him up, he was still sleek as silk in the bond.

 

Lance smiled, suave and persuasive. “You know you want to.” He opened his arms and waited.

 

Keith let out a long breath through his nose. _Now_ he was exasperated, but also endeared toward Lance. He quickly shed his clothes and fell into the circle of Lance’s arms. “That smooth mouth of yours will be the end of me,” he confessed, and leaned in to ghost his lips over the labret piercing. Keith seemed particularly taken with it, and Lance couldn’t wait until it was done healing.

 

They kept eye contact as Keith carefully ran the tip of his tongue over the stud, avoiding the healing skin. This was a side of Keith that rarely made an appearance, sensual, and almost detached from his seductive behavior. As usual, it felt out of place on Keith, but not any less attractive.

 

When Keith realized what he was doing he blinked it away, and instead pressed and chast kiss to Lance’s lips, then pressed their foreheads together. “I still want to know why you didn’t tell-” He stopped, and stared, pressing their heads together harder as if he could get closer, like he was looking at something interesting. “Your eyes…” he whispered.

 

Lance blinked in response. “What?” He was glad Keith wasn’t pushing about the birthday thing, but now he was just confused, and so was Keith by the feel of it.

 

Keith squinted. “Your eyes are bluer,” he delaired.

 

“What?” Lance repeated, not any less confused with that explanation.

 

Now Keith was holding his face, and tipped his head, closing one eyes to get as close a look as possible. He turned Lance’s head towards the light, letting it shine on his eyes from an angle. Keith released a small gasp and let go. The jump of surprise fluttered in Lance’s chest as well.

 

“Your pupils are blue, that's why your eyes look bluer,” Keith explained in wonder.

 

“What?” Lance said for a third time, still confused.

 

“It’s not that noticeable, but your pupils are navy blue now,” Keith clarified. His reached behind himself and ran his fingers over the edge of the velvety purple skin.

 

Lance covered the galra skin with his own hand, and threaded their fingers. “Guess we have something else in common now.”

 

“Aren't you worried? Don’t you want to look at it in a mirror?” Keith asked.

 

Lance let himself sag to one side a bit, the weight of that explanation made him feel unbalanced. The mirror held even less appeal now, because it had even more sway. “No,” he answered simply, foregoing any further excuses.   

 

“But-” Keith tried to argue, burning with curiosity.

 

“No,” Lance repeated. “It’s not as big a deal as yours, and if everything goes well we won’t be on this planet much longer anyway,” he offered, and opened his arms for Keith again. Through the bond he begged, not with words, but with long lengths of watery pleas of emotion. He didn’t want to explain his body issues, or his self esteem problems, most of which Keith intrinsically understood. Lance didn’t trust his own feelings on those subjects to begin with. He just wanted to hold close the way he felt earlier, sleep with it, and leave this chaos as soon as possible.

 

Keith accepted Lance’s embrace, slapping the light off as they lay themselves down. His pressed his face into Lance’s neck, and let himself be held, treasured the way he liked. _‘This isn’t over,’_ Keith thought at Lance, as bold red words, and Lance knew he meant the eyes and his birthday.

 

 _‘I know, but we need sleep,’_ Lance reasoned, as calm and blue as could be.

 

Keith gave in, resigned. Only because Lance was right. The mission was tomorrow.

 

Before they drifted off, Keith whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

 

Lance, compelled to pay him back and make them square, cuddled Keith closer.

 

oOoOo

  
  
  


Large, rust framed windows let in the sun, thick bars of light that set fire to the dustmotes. Lance ran through the heatless embers. Anticipation dripped from his toes up into his chest, and curled inside the fear that filled him, like ink into water. He traveled through the broken light, down a long hallway. It was an abandoned path used by the Zuko to travel between Yeppeos unnoticed. Not even Pidge knew where these pathways were located, it was a tightly kept secret of all Zukos.

 

Lance rushed to get into position. The path slipped underground, and the sun was smothered by the decent. Lance maneuvered through the dark by memory, no electronics could be activated under Yeppeo one. It was a safety precaution to ensure the tunnels remained hidden.

 

Keith was above ground, in the land of chrome that housed the highest ranks of Yeppeuda, but his thoughts ran through Lance’s mind. Red static, that would zap him from time to time, with fear, or anxiety. They offered each other minimal support, afraid of throwing off the mission, they needed to focus. Lance took comfort in the smell of Keith that linger on his skin, warm rain and salt.

 

From the ceiling a needle of light pierced the dark. Lance stopped, and dropped his bag. He took a breath, long, slow, and full of dust. With practised hands he felt for the ladder on the wall, and climbed to the source of light. It was a small vent hole in a large hatch. Lance turned a wide wheel, and pushed the heavy round door up and away with ease gained from repetition. He recalled the first time he traveled these tunnels, Kal had to open all the hatches. He glanced at his bare arms. Maybe he should get a tattoo there? He had the muscle to pull it off now, tight and wiry, to complement his slim build.

 

He shook the thought away. _Focus, focus, focus,_ he looped it in his mind… Hunk was probably making something good for dinn- _nope! Focus!_ Lance huffed as he hauled himself into the strangely clean basement and shut the hatch. He waved his hand as if to dismiss his minds nervous rambling, an old habit he thought he had overcome. Apparently he’d only raised his stress tolerance.

 

Compartmentalize, Lance told himself, he was a pro. For the first time in a week he allowed his mind to slip into a place between meditation and awareness. Only for a moment he let Keith slip away, and submerged his emotion, leaving placid waters behind. Keith didn’t seem to notice the laps, he was too distracted.

 

The storage room Lance emerged in was bright. Only two lights hung from the low ceiling, but the polished walls and floor were blinding. Yeppeo one was both sleek and ostentatious, like some sick joke on juxtaposition. Lance scoffed, he hated this place. It was nothing but a shrine to the rich built by the rich. They entombed themselves in the name of containing the poor, created their own gilded cage, unaware. He climbed the stairs and cracked the door open. The corridor was empty, so he slipped out with his bag over his shoulder.

 

Lance crept slowly, but his footfalls still skittered over walls so polished he could see himself. The sound slither up to the cathedral ceiling, and arched across the corridor. His heart jumped with every step until he arrived at his destination.

 

Lance recalled the schematic Pidge had pulled from the Gi-Shu. He placed his hand on the far wall, and slid it left and right, up and down, feeling for the catch he knew was there. His fingers slipped into a crack his eyes couldn’t see… it was eerie, as if his fingers phased into the wall. He pulled, and a hidden door popped open. The entrance to the servants stairs. He slipped inside, and shut the door behind himself.

 

“ **_You in?”_ **

 

Lance held his yelp of surprise in his mouth with his hand. Deep breaths through his nose slowed his heart. He took a quick look around to make sure he was alone, and grabbed the large coppery box strapped to his chest, pushing the button to respond.

 

“Damn it Pidge, you could have gotten me caught! Over!” He snapped back and release the button.

 

 ** _“But are you in?”_** The metallic quality of the transmission didn't dampen Pidgeon’s sass.

 

“Yes I’m in! Over,” Lance relented.

 

 **_“Good, let me know when you’re on the roof,”_ ** Pidge ordered, unaffected by Lance’s surly mood.

 

Lance leaned against the polished wall. His shoulders lifted with his calming breath, but he still growled when he responded. “I will, and say Over, OVER.” His finger was sore with the force of his press, and it ached when he released the button.

 

 **_“No,”_ ** Pidge refused, the word edged in petulance.

 

Lance continued running down the narrow pathways, but refused to concede the argument. “How am I supposed to know when you’re done talking? Over.” He tried to be reasonable.

 

 **_“You seem to be doing pretty good so far,”_ ** Pidge reasoned. They were being snarky, but the hard reluctance in their voice softened.

 

Lance couldn’t stop the small smile, Pidgeon’s offhanded sass wormed its way through his bad mood as he tried to persuade them. “Just say Over, it's what you’re supposed to do on a radio, it's like one way, or single band or something. Over.”

 

A long, over dramatic sigh came through high and metallic. **_“Shitty old tech, I feel stupid saying it,”_ ** Pidge admitted, in a tone that told Lance exactly how much they hated admitting it.

 

“Well you have too! Ov-,” Lance tried to tease, but his com made a loud squeak, his adrenaline spiked, and he almost dropped the com in surprise. He paused with his hand over his heart, trying to center himself, and pretend he hadn’t squealed like a child.

 

 **_“What?”_ ** Pidge called out when the static cleared. **_“I didn’t hear you, I was trying to talk when you were,”_ ** they admitted, sheepishly.

 

Recollected, and on the move again, Lance reveled in his vindication. “This is EXACTLY why you say over. OVER.” He rubbed it in, like only a brother could. Older or younger, it didn’t matter, it was just how sibling behaved.

 

Pidge skwaked and shouted. **_“Shut up La-”_ **

 

The interruption was sudden. A scuffle, some overlapping yells, a moment of silence, and then Shiro came over the com. **_“Lance, get to the roof. Over and out.”_ **

 

It was a no nonsense end, and Lance was left with only his own buzzing thoughts and worries. Despite the volume of the buzzing, Lance was completely focused. He couldn’t mess this up, it was too important. He scurried the rest of the way to the roof without encountering another soul.

 

The building Lance had climbed was one of the tallest in the area. A phallic, chrome monstrosity, that served as a monument to the privileged residents of Yeppeo One. Lance looked out over the sea of buildings below, less shiny, but no less pristine, white, and pretentious, as the one he was perched on.

 

The bar Vii frequented was less than a block away, and Lance had a perfect view of the large front windows. He dropped his bag near the edge of the roof, just in front of a small wall, and ignored his own reflection in the glossy top of the barrier. He went to his knees and pulled out the two halves of his rifle, and the halves of his dart gun, quickly assembling both. Despite the plan, and being told not to bring his real guns, Lance wanted his rifle ready. It only took minutes to set up, he double checked everything, and patted the hand gun at his hip to be sure he was set. When he was finished, crouching in front of his well worn equipment, Lance looked at himself in the mirror finish of the wall.

 

It was him looking back. Lance with the piercings, with the long unruly hair clipped back, and the scattered little scars over his skin. Lance with the hard eyes. Under all of that, he could still see the cobbled together pieces of a broken puzzle, with smooth skin he worked so hard on, short hair like his Uncle wanted, and eyes endlessly looking backwards at his own mistakes.

 

His absent stare was broken by the crackle of his radio. **_“Lance, are you in position?”_ ** Pidge asked, and after pause they uttered, **_“Over.”_ **

 

Lance pulled himself away from his reflection, and smiled. "Yeah, I’m in position. Over,” he responded, only a little smug.

 

 **_“Vii was last spotted by the camera’s heading your way. He should arrive at the bar shortly. Over.”_ ** Pidge was in full mission mode. Lance could picture them in their tech cave with the team crammed in behind them, watching all the monitors. It turned out that upper Yeppeos have a fairly weak Gi-Shu, so hacking their feeds was child's play for their little Pigeon.

 

Lance pulled two scopes out of his bag, and snapped one on each gun, then he settled down in front of  his real rifle. He would wait and see if they needed the dart gun, unwilling to risk Keith’s safety. Lance rolled up the sleeves of his old baseball tee and got comfortable. His shirt was a little stretched out from age, and Lance hated covering his tattoo, but it also covered the majority of the marks Keith had left on him. Only the very edge of the bite mark showed when Lance moved around to much. Honestly, he liked the feel of it, and wished he didn’t have to hide it. Not for the first time, he wondered if they should just tell the entire team about their relationship, Shiro be damned. The decline of his and Keith’s relationship with Shiro was paralleled by the incline of Lance’s relationship with everyone else, and he wouldn’t trade his new bond with Pidge or Allura for anything, not even Shiro’s approval.

 

A shiver shook Lance’s thoughts loose, and the grim topic slipped away. He refocused on the street, the people were stark against the white and silver city. All of them striking, slim, with color schemes that caught the eye. But none of them could compare to the rare, shining gem of a Yep-Nari. They cut through the crowd, a stone in the rushing waters of the common people. Everyone stopped to stare. Each Yep-Nari’s body was a proportioned a little closer to the beauty standard, their hair and skin a shade further apart, their eyes a bit brighter.

 

The sun began to set, the sparkling buildings were russet and ruby, and Lance became tense with mounting anticipation. Then it snapped with the crackle of the com.

 

 **_“I have eyes on Vii, camera Alpha-Charlie-6. Over,”_ ** Pidge whispered, warbly and metallic.

 

Lance turned his gun to the camera position, and there he was, the man of the hour. He was easy to pick out. A common man packaged in a remarkable outfit. The finest clothes, sharp, but loose in the right places, and all white. A pretty cover for a person verging on Don-iro. Brown eyes, red hair that was cropped short, and blended smoothly into the pink tone of his skin. Common colors, to closely related to be considered beautiful in Yeppeo one, but by Lance’s standards -and Zuko- he was attractive. Smooth features, almond eyes, and a lean figure, he bordered the line between beautiful and handsome. Vii’s stylish, asymmetrical shirt was sleeveless on one side, with a large collar that dropped off the other shoulder. His exposed arm was covered in a circuit board patterned tattoo, common among Gi-shu and Zuko, inked in brown.   

 

A chime rang out over the entire city, calling for attention. Lance groaned. Damn upper Yeppeo announcements. These stuck up assholes needed every bit of their lives to be scheduled, and “beautiful”.

 

A soft voice echoed over the buildings. **“For today's weather event, we will experience a splendiferous pearlescent rain shower. It will commence in 15 Doboshes.”** A chime in a lower register closed the announcement.

 

Lance growled in frustration, damn RNG weather in this damn shiny pile of trash Yeppeo, hopefully the rain would be light. He wanted to scream, but remained calm and eyed his prey. Vii strolled along the clean road, as if he fit in, but he didn’t. Despite his fine clothes, he was a flashing beacon of the lower Yeppeos, and Lance found it sort of refreshing to see. Through the scope Lance followed Vii’s moments as he made his way to the expected location. The muzzle of the rifle trailed Vii until he took a seat at the bar, and a drink was placed before him without request.

 

“Mark is in position. Over,” Lance relayed.

 

 **_“Roger. Keith you are a go. Over,”_ ** Pidge directed, a tilt of nerves to their voice.

 

The current of the crowded street wavered, and parted, when Keith appeared from around the corner. He cut through like a blade quenched in water, and the people bubbled around him. Keith ignored the pointing and almost reverent whispers, he looked directly ahead, and continued down the street.

 

Lance knew Keith hated being a Yep-nari. But man, did Lance love looking at Keith when he was dressed for work. The skin tight black pants were painted on, and paired with knee high heeled boots. His top was black, but open in the front all the way to Keith’s waist, where it was buttoned once. The sleeves were long at the elbow, almost brushing the street, the only thing keeping the shirt on Keiths shoulders was a decorative chain that attached the the silky material and swept across Keith's chest like a livery collar, it was the mark of a Yep-nari. Keith’s collar was black to match his aesthetic, three chains, each dipping a little lower than the last, one for each Yeppeo he had moved up from. Every three inches the chains were bundled together by a black gem. His skin almost glowed through the gaps in his attire, and his eyes were bright, the only splash of color in the black and white pallet.

 

With his chin raised, Keith continued down the road. He looked at no one, and floated above the commoners. None of the red disgust that coated Lance’s mind showed on Keith’s face. There were nerves, irritation, and an eerie, deep longing, simmering under the surface, and Lance could feel it all, even if he couldn’t see it.

 

Then it was gone.

 

Every trance of Keith was gone. He had withdrawn form the bond, leaving empty corridors where red walkways once lived. For one crazy moment Lance panicked. It had been so long since he had been alone with his own thoughts, he was insecure. Without the ruby tinted lens of Keith’s perspective, he suddenly felt inadequate. He was left with only the residue of Keith’s shame, and the distinct feeling of something that couldn’t exist alongside Lance.

 

Without a doubt, this is what Keith felt when Lance would meditate, it was awful, and cold. Guilt welled up, but Lance forced it down into the pit of his stomach to solidify, he would save it for later, along with all his other regrets. For now he would stand on his own and watch. Even if he hadn’t expected it, he understood why Keith needed to pull away to do this.

 

Keith entered the bar, and changed, morphed before Lance’s eyes into a stranger. His body relaxed into a casual line that Lance had never seen, and he moved gracefully, like a predator, until he was across the bar in Vii’s line of sight. Then he stopped, and ignored his mark.

 

 **_“What is Keith doing? Did he freeze? Over.”_ ** Pidge sounded irritated and worried.

 

Lance’s thoughts were rain against a windshield, scattered. He was only capable of watching Keith, who felt so far away. Shiro spoke up in his absence.

 

 **_“No, he's got this.”_ ** Shiro sounded confident, but even through the static of the com, there was a sense of loss in his voice. Lance wondered if he mourned what Keith lost by participating in this mission, or if he still regretted the loss of Keith’s innocents all those years ago. Either way, Shiro’s regret was only driven by some ill conceived notion that any of this made Keith less, which it didn’t.

 

 **_“The games only just started,”_ ** Shiro whispered, before realizing he was still on the com, then the static cut off with a click.

 

It really was a game. Pidge didn’t see it, young and inexperienced as they were, but Lance picked out the signs. Keith pretended not to see their target, and allowed Vii to think he caught first sight. He lulled Vii into a false sense of dominance, before meeting his eyes in a casual glance and then looking away. It could have easily been an accident, Lance would have been fooled if he wasn’t privy to the situation.

 

Vii watched Keith for a moment longer, then he waved his hand vauguly towards the bar, and another drink appeared. Vii swept up the new drink, turning his back to the window as he slid from his seat. He paused for a couple of ticks, then turned back to the bar to snatch up his own glass, and skulled across the room.

 

A puffed up kitten stalking a lion.

 

Through the unfamiliar, Lance began to see Keith. He had noticed the weak echo of this persona before. Flashes of the smooth movements, predatory aggression, and well practiced smiles, then Keith would wipe them away. Lance saw it their very first time together in the small extra room of the shack, he saw it the first time Keith had tried to top, and in so many other small moments that were shrugged off. Keith didn’t want to be this, not with Lance, so Keith shut him out.

 

Vii arrived in front of Keith with a quirky smirk, and a charming, casual stance. He leaned against the round, high, table Keith stood near, and slid a tall glass across the surface. It stopped only an inch from the edge, directly in front of Keith. The beverage was light, almost pink, and bubbled. If they were on Earth, Lance would have said it was Prosecco, or something similar. Either way, it looked expensive.

 

Keith shifted, turning to face Vii. His body was open, his face bored, and his fingers grazed the top of the glass in consideration. He conveyed nothing but haughty superiority. Vii’s smiled widened, and he leaned forward to speak at an intimate distance. Without modern earpieces none of the team could hear the conversation taking place.

 

Vii boldly placed a hand on Keith’s arm as he spoke. Uninvited contact with a Yep-Nari was considered unacceptable, but Vii looked unconcerned. Keith’s face pulled disapprovingly, but his body leaned into Vii’s touch, as if it was unconscious. Lance knew it was a deliberate and well calculated move. Keith didn’t want to seem eager, but didn't want to drive Vii away. Many Yep-Nari were sheltered, and inexperienced, and Keith played the perfect prey.

 

Finally, Keith leaned away from Vii’s hand, lowered his eyes to the table, hiding a small, shy smile, but not well enough. Vii looked confident, and pushed the sparkling drink a little closer as their conversation continued.

 

 **_“How did Keith… He didn’t- What the fuck?”_ ** all the rules of radio communication were lost in the confused awe of Pidge and Hunk’s overlapping voices.

 

Lance knew how. Keith had tried to erase this from himself, the pain of every edit seemed in vain as Lance watched the scene play out, and it made him sick. He was sick for Keith’s sense of self being tossed aside for some greater good, and he wanted to throttle Shiro. His rage echoed in all the space left in Keith’s wake, scalding water filling his chest, and it intensified without anyone to temper it. His hands white knuckled around his gun, but his finger stayed steady, and his scope was well aimed.

 

Keith brushed the delicate glass with his fingertips, and smiled at Vii. it was well rehearsed, beautiful, and completely empty, nothing like how he smiled at Lance. But Vii’s eyes lit up, and he pointed at Keith’s drink, said something, and began to gesture enthusiastically. Apparently he was the equivalent of some sort of wine snob on this planet. Keith laughed, and nodded along to Vii’s explanations.

 

The com came to life, and Lance’s tense body twitched in surprise. **_“Keith’s got game,”_ ** Pidge commented, genuinely surprised. So surprised that they forgot to say “over”.

 

No one responded.

 

Vii was closing the distance between himself and Keith. All Lance could hear was static, his eye fixed on the scene through the scope. He could feel his own heartbeat. In his legs, his arms, hot, just under his skin, it was shallow, but fast with fear and jealousy. Vii was only inches away from Keith, their faces close, almost able to kiss Keith’s lips, the lips that belonged to Lance, and only Lance. His finger tightened on the trigger, his crosshairs fixed directly over Vii’s smug face. His heartbeat rose into his ears, drowning out the static, and pulsing with the burn behind his eyes.

 

 **_“Lance, buddy. You’re being unusually quiet, heh…Over,”_ ** Hunk prodded conspicuously. Pidge could be heard in the background, asking curious questions. _“Why does it matter that he’s quiet?”_

 

Lance’s finger loosened, and his jaw unclenched. Sound rushed back as his heart retreated to his chest. As much as he wanted to snap at Hunk for being obvious, Lance couldn’t blame him considering how close he’d just come to murdering their target. He took a steadying breath, and responded. “Yeah, I’m good. Over.” Maybe he should move to the dart gun… but he didn’t.

 

Keith and Vii were still very cozy, and whispering to each other in their corner of the bar. Lance bit down on his lip while this continued for a couple of minutes. His rage hardened, and filled him with ice, cold and suffocating without Keith to melt it, but he endured. His laser like concentration was interrupted by a small cold drop on his forehead. He blinked, and another landed on his nose, then his hand. He looked down at the milky rain drop and cursed.

 

“Fuck.”

 

The drop on his hand rolled down the back of his fingers, leaving a glittering trail. Stupid fucking yuppie rain. Luckily the shower remained light for now, and Lance’s view of the bar was only a little blurry. He tipped his scope down just a bit, protecting it from the rain.

 

 **_“Lance, you still got a visual? Over,”_ ** Pidge asked, likely concerned by the weather.

 

“Yeah, I’m good. Over,” Lance assured them. Then his heart stopped, the ice in him expanded, threatening to tear him apart.

 

Vii leaned in towards Keith with clear intentions. For a moment, it looked as if Keith was going to commit, lead Vii into their trap as intended. His eyes were open, and sharp, while Vii’s slowly closed, but Keith’s facade cracked with the slight widening of his eyes.

 

Lance fell from the cliff of his empty bond, and in a rush of emotion he hit the solid ground of Keith’s distressed mind. There was no slow trickle of a breaking dam, but complete catastrophic failure of the wall in their link.

 

Lance gasped, trying to keep his head above the sea of guilt, and shame that cascaded over him. Below it all was fear, and it wasn’t fear of what was happening. Finally Lance understood. Keith was afraid of finding comfort in the familiar, of enjoying the velvety constraints of having your choices made for you. Just a little, Keith wanted to give in and let the current take him. Lance choked on it all, but he didn’t judge.

 

Through all the chaos of the bond snapping back in place, Keith managed to calm down, and his wide eyes relaxed. Lance felt Keith grab him like a railing for balance. He pulled back from Vii right before they kissed, he couldn’t do it while Lance was in his mind. Keith lifted his untouched drink between them, and said something with a charming smile, trying to distract Vii.

 

Rather than being insulted or put out, Vii looked pleased, and nodded. He shouldn’t have looked so pleased. Keith lifted the glass to his lips, and took a sip. Vii smirked, and Lance’s breath caught.

 

Everything went wrong. The way his skin felt was wrong, his tongue, his lips, the air he was breathing, all of it was wrong. He was dizzy, and light, as if he was dreaming. All of the strange new sensations were spewing in from Keith’s end of the bond, obscuring Lance’s mind, and dampening Keith’s natural fire. He was a cloudy puddle.

 

 **_“LANCE! Something isn’t right with Keith, do you have a visual?! Over!”_ ** Pidge yelled through the radio, causing the already tinny quality to squeal.

 

Lance couldn’t focus on the words. They were swimming in his ears, like the sight of the bar was swimming in his vision. Keith was swimming too, floating on his back, just like in the castleships pool. He had little care for anything, and that was nice, Lance thought Keith worried to much.

 

 **_“LANCE, FUCK, LANCE!”_ ** Pidge was frantic, for whatever reason… Things were just dandy.

 

No, wait. Things weren’t alright. Suddenly everything wasn’t ok. _He didn’t want to go that way, not that, no, no, no._ Terror poured into Lance, and tasted like blood in his mouth. There was blood in his mouth. Someone was yelling, Their voice wavering underwater. Water was running through his hair, down his face, coating him. Chilling rain came down in white sheets, over his gun, and his face. Nothing good ever happened in the rain. Why did he always miss it?

 

The yelling grew louder, but it wasn’t over the com. _‘LaNC-’_ Slurred and incomplete. _‘LANC-’_ again, but muffled by all the rain.

 

 _‘LANCE!’_ It was clear, and full of fear, and Lance took a gasping breath as if he’d been holding it.

 

Keith! It wasn’t the radio, it was Keith. Lance blinked. He was biting his lip so hard his piercing was bleeding.

 

“ **_Lance, buddy, we lost visual on Keith!”_ ** Hunk yelled through the com, and Pidge was screaming for the radio back.

 

Lance was still dizzy, but he tried to focus. With quick meditation techniques he cleared his head a little, blocking most of his bond, it helped. He looked through the scope, but everything was shiny and white. The rain covered everything in a pearly curtain. He fumbled with the com, hoping it wasn’t too waterlogged to work. With shaking fingers he managed to press the button.

 

“What happened?! Where’s Keith?! I can’t see anything through the rain!” Lance tried not to yell, but failed. He was sure his panicked tears came through clearly.

 

 **_“Lance, Keith was acting strange then Vii dragged him off somewhere, we have no cameras on him, Over.”_ ** Shiro’s calm and collected voice came through, But the rain was making it hard to understand.

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Lance scrambled back to his gun, and tried to see anything he could through the scope, but all he could make out was the outline of the bar window. From the bond he felt fog, through that he felt fear… and a struggling spark of anger. Keith was fighting, of course he was fighting. Keith wasn’t capable of going down without fighting, but he was still scared, cloudy and pink.

 

Lance wasn’t thinking of the mission, or getting off this damn planet, or of anything else except helping Keith. All his senses hardened into cold determination. With only the bar window in view, Lance fired his rifle, regardless of the danger to the patrons. If Keith was off camera, then he wasn’t in the shots line of sight, and that's all that mattered. The shot rang through the white rain, and the crash of the bar window reverberated through the streets. People screamed, and chaos ensued.

 

Lance had already thrown his gun aside, and sprinted to the door. His team was yelling through the radio.

 

**_“WHAT THE HELL LANCE!- what’s happe- LANCE!?”_ **

 

He ripped the copper box from his hip the threw it to the side, his team's voices tapered off as he left them behind in the servants hallway. Lance burst into the basement where he entered and clambered into the secret Zuko tunnel. It only took minutes for him to arrive with this shortcut, he came out behind the bar and circled around to the front, getting soaked in the rain. He pulled his pistol from his belt and lept through the broken front window. Everything was quiet, deserted, all the guest had run off. He could only hear the milky rain falling outside, and dripping from his body. He inched forward, the glass cracked under his feet, and made wet, glittery paste.

 

Then there was a shuffle, and a muffled scream from somewhere in the back. Lance took off. In the back of the bar there was a flat white wall, another yell came from the otherside. Frantic, Lance began to feel around, and just like with the servants hallway his fingers slid into the wall and he grabbed a lach. He pulled, and ran through the small opening. On the other side he found a narrow hallway full of doors. Lance's heart sank in his chest, as he began to walk slowly, and the hidden hatch closed behind him. Each door had a number, and a small window that could slide open for easy viewing. The handles had dots on them, some were black and some were white, and they seemed to indicate vacancy. Lance went numb, he knew what this place was; the bar was just a cover.

 

A loud thump had Lance running again, he didn't hesitate, not any more. He kicked door number five open, and ran in pistol first. The room was medium sized, with only a mattress on the floor in the center, lined up perfectly with the viewing slot on the door.

 

Keith was thankfully on his feet, but crouched low for balance, eyes wild, surrounded by three men. But his legs were shaky, and his pupils blown out. What was left of his iris’ were fluorescent orange. The bright burning edge of an eclipse.

 

All three men whipped around when Lance broke down the door. One of them was Vii and the two others were strangers. Larger, thug like, and both completely yellow, hair, skin and eyes. Lance ignored them, transfixed by Keith’s orange eyes. But Keith only looked at Lance for a moment, then used the distraction to jump the closest yellow thug. With a feral growl he leapt onto the mans back and his arms circled the man's neck. With a single hard squeeze, and more strength than Lance thought possible, Keith brought the thug to his knees.

 

In the seconds it took for reality to catch up, panic receded, and in a blink Lance’s adrenalin was to the brim. He couldn’t think about what might have happened if he were only minutes later, because now was unfolding quickly. He pushed his mounting fear and bile down for later, and it mixed with the guilt from the rooftop.

 

The second thug shook off his surprise, pulled a large and slightly rusty firearm from his belt, and began to aim at the immediate danger, which was Keith. Without taking his eyes off the frankly terrifying image Keith presented, Lance turned his weapon on the thug, and shot him. Then, with a sweep of his arm he was aiming at Vii, who was backing cautiously away as if Keith was an angry bear.

 

“You. Stay,” Lance command clearly, without looking. Vii stilled in his peripheral and raised his open palms to chest height in surrender, but never took his eyes of Keith.

 

The thug Keith had jumped stopped moving within moments of being taken down, but Keith remain on his back, clinging to his neck. “Keith,” Lance called, but got no response. He didn’t dare let down the wall in the bond, not until they were safe.

 

He pulled his eyes away long enough to confirm the thug he had shot was down, and then turned on Vii, who still wasn’t looking at the gun threatening his life. “What did you do to him?” Lance’s voice was cold with rage. It filled every crevice of his mind, and left no room for mercy or remorse.

 

Vii shook his head, and thinned his lips in protest. His breathing was quick, and his eyes wide, fastened on Keith.

 

In a few large strides Lance was pressing his gun to the pink skin of Vii’s temple. “Tell me, NOW,” He roared the command. Keith didn't even flinch from his single minded focus.

 

“It was just a little Rira’s Song!” Vii blurted, his voice raw with fear, and his breath hitched as if Keith was going to suddenly notice him and attack.

 

Lance had heard of the drug, he even used a little once with Kal. He remembered the strange dream like state it had induced. With his free hand he pointed at Keith. “ **That** is not what Rira’s Song does!” he observed in a low and dangerous tone. Lance ignored the implication of drugging someone without their knowledge, for now.

  
Vii swallowed, and licked his dry lips. “I- I didn’t- know- then he- his eyes,” he stuttered, clearly becoming overwhelmed with terror.

 

Lance was done. His adrenalin was draining, and he was beginning to feel sick. He poked Vii’s temple with the muzzle of his gun, hard. “Speak, clearly,” he enunciated slowly.

 

Vii gasped in pain, but the words tumbled out in a fit of self preservation. “I didn’t know he was Glara, if I had I- But, he reacted normally at first. Then we got back here and his eyes changed, The reaction must have been delayed because he's not full- but he doesn’t look at all-” His words were strangled by a squeal.

 

Keith was finally moving, he unwound his arms from the thug’s neck, and sat up. His unsettling gaze landed on Vii, and he growled. His lips pulled back, and Lance was shocked to see fangs. They weren't huge, but they were noticeable, and intimidating.

 

“We’re going to die,” ViI whispered, and it quaked. Lance snorted quietly. This guy was hyped up to be some big bad, killer… just goes to show, murderers can be cowards. Pathetic.

 

“He won’t hurt me,” Lance assured, even if Keith slowly standing, with glowing orange eyes peeking from under his fringe, was one of the most menacing things he had ever seen.

 

“He’s going to kill both of us!” Vii yelled, becoming hysterical. “Unless he's got a Noye, we are fucked! Cuz I don’t see any other Glara around, DO YOU?” He cracked wide open, and the remains of his cool persona fell away.

 

Lance had no idea what a Noye was, another fucking word with no direct translation, but he was still sure, on some base level, that Keith wouldn’t harm him, probably. Orange iris’s shined from the shadow of Keith’s hair, like cat eyes in the dark, and be began to slowly approach. Vii tried to step away, but Lance grabbed his arms and pressed his gun harder into Vii’s skin. He wasn’t sure what to do. Keith was obviously not in his right mind, he could have died or worse, and Lance was trying his best not to freak out. But all his repressed emotions were beginning to bubble unpleasantly, and the rain water soaking his clothes was threatening to reach into his bones, to remind him why nothing good ever lasted.

 

“Listen, Mister…” Vii tried to plead, but faltered on the name, and then gestured at the gun to his head. “Scary-gun-man, your buddy is part Galra, they are the only race I know that has the orange-eyes-going-crazy reaction to Rira’s Song, and we need to run.” Vii was sweaty, and his eyes were unfocused as his breathing quickened, but Lance’s gun kept him from doing anything rash.

 

Lance took a deep breath, and used the last of his will power to refrain from shooting Vii in his stupid fucking face, they still needed him. “Why, would you slip anyone that drug, if there is an entire race that goes crazy when they take it?” Lance kept his tone falsely calm, but lost his grip near the end.

 

Keith was still walking towards them eerily slow, and both Vii and Lance started the back away. Vii kept trying to step back quickly, but Lance kept him nearby with a forceful pull.

 

“Do you know how long it’s been since a Galra has been on this planet? I only know because I’m one of the few people -besides scrappers- who leaves this fucking rock!” Vii hissed back. Apparently he was over the hump of his fear and fell straight into annoyed and angry. Keith crept closer, and a low rumble was rolling from his chest. “We are so fucked,” Vii whined, flopping from anger into self pity like flipping a coin.

 

“I said he won’t hurt me,” Lance insisted with less confidence, as he took another step back. He meant what he’d said, but Keith was really freaking him out.

 

Vii barked a laugh. “Sure, go test that out. I’ll be running while he kills you with freakishly singular intent,” he jabbered, running through his emotions faster than a flipbook. He tried to back away some more, but Lance held him in place deciding to stand his ground. Vii tried to pull away frantically, but Lance was stronger and the presence of his gun halted Vii’s struggle rather quickly. But that didn’t stop him from rambling. “Are you nuts?! I told you nothing will stop him from murdering us where we stand!”

  
“No, you said a Noye could stop him,” Lance retorted, feeling particularly obstinate, mostly because it was better than feeling anything else.

 

Vii tried to pull himself out of Lance’s grasp again. “HIS Noye, A Galra’s Noye can only be another Galra, so we are still screwed! Unless a dead race comes back for the sole purpose of saving us!”

 

“What are you talking about?!” Lance snapped, irritation spiking. Keith was almost within arms reach, looking particularly murderous, and Lance could only feel a strange pressure in his mind.

 

Vii was laughing again, in a way that conveyed no humor. “The only other race that could be a Glara’s Noye is extinct. Wiped out -ironically for us- by the Galra!” he punctuated with another laugh, like this was all some big joke.

 

Lance almost stumbled in the wake of a heavy slap of realization. He was an idiot. He didn’t exactly know what a Noye was, but he had an idea. He had to open the bond, but he knew the moment he did, the drug was going to influence his mind through Keith. Things were about to get weird.

 

“OK, I got this,” Lance muttered to himself. “Rojo,” he called out, and let the tiniest trickle of red come through the bond. He felt it like the first glass of wine, and Keith looked at him, finally acknowledged him, but he was still far away in his orange eyes.

 

Vii’s tense muscles relaxed under Lance’s hand when Keith’s focus shifted, but he kept a careful eye on them both. Lance slowly lowered his gun, afraid that he might do something stupid once the bond opened completely. He put it back in it holster, and glanced at Vii out of the corner of his eye. “No sudden movements, got it?” He hissed.

 

Vii nodded, and stayed perfectly still. But from the side of his mouth he whispered, “Whatever your going to do, do it quick, before the authorities show up.”

 

Shit, Lance hadn't even considered that in his panic. “How long?” he asked, while Keith eyed him curiously.

 

Vii shrugged, a tiny lift of his shoulders. “Depends on if they find the hidden door.”

 

“Great,” Lance sighed. He was finding it hard to hold onto any worries. He began to take slow steps away from Vii, and Keith eyed him the entire time. He stopped a few feet away, and braced himself for what was going to happen.

 

It was faster than Lance had expected. The bond wanted to snap back into place, longed to be whole. So when Lance dropped his block, things escalated quickly. The room spun, and Lance’s limbs went numb, but at the same time Keith’s eyes cleared a little. They were still orange, and his canines still sharp, but there was recognition.

 

“Ace?”

 

As the question left Keith’s mouth he was already rushing the short distance into Lance’s arms, his face covered with relief and fear. He stumbled, and they collided in a fierce hug. Lance hung on as the floor shifted, and the walls rotated around them. His bubbling stomach of disregarded emotions rebelled. The hard stone of guilt sloshed around in his worry, and pain. Keith was still high, but the aggression and fear, mellowed into an affectionate whimsy with the reconnection of the bond.

 

Soft lips rubbed against Lance’s sensitive neck. Keith nuzzled him, taking deep breaths of his sent. For a fleeting moment it was enough, and Lance didn’t need to acknowledge his growing discontent. He pressed his face into Keith’s shoulder, and was glad to have him, safe and whole.

 

But it couldn’t last. The woolen blanket of Rira’s Song wasn’t enough to muffle the urgency of the situation. At least not for Lance, who was only experiencing the drug second hand. He detached Keith, and held him at arm's length. “We have to go before the cops find this back room, and Vii-”

 

Lance turned to call for Vii, but he was gone. How long had they been hugging for? Time didn't seem to be flowing correctly.

 

“Fuck,” Lance cursed, but is wasn’t heart felt. He was having trouble grasping any single emotion. Everything rushed by as if he was clinging to a rock in the current of a raging river.

 

“We should go back to the ship, this is boring,” Keith complained, light hearted and a little giggly. He ran his hand down Lance’s chest suggestively.

 

Lance was still craning his neck, looking for Vii. “Yeah,” he agreed, distracted.

 

“Come on,” Keith urged. He grabbed Lance’s wrist and pulled him into the long hallway of doors.

 

A commotion could be heard from behind the hidden entrance, as Keith started to drag him in that direction. Lance planted his feet when he realized where they were going. “Not that way.”

 

Keith frowned, but listened, and Lance took a quick glance around. At the opposite end of the hall there seemed to be another way out. “This way,” he directed, and started to pull Keith.

 

Lance’s stomach complained the entire way, and when they started to jog, anxious for freedom, he wanted to vomit his shame and fear onto the floor. But the floor kept moving, sliding under his feet as he struggled to stay upright. Keith didn’t resist at all, or question Lance’s decision.

 

They burst out into a back alley, the rain was heavy. Lance didn’t slow down, he dragged Keith as he ran. The milky rain was in his eyes, and he struggled to figure out exactly where he was. The cops at the front of the building were yelling, and their footsteps were wet as they started to circle around back. Just as Lance thought they were cornered, he found the grate that hid the Zuko tunnel. He stumbled and dropped to his knees in front of the entrance. With a grunt and a heave he pulled the grate up.

 

“Come on!” Lance went for the ladder. He slipped on the wet metal of the rungs, and almost fell all the way down, but caught himself at the last second. Carefully he lowered himself underground. The police were getting louder. Lance looked up, but Keith wasn’t climbing down. “Rojo?! Come down!” He yelled up.

 

Keith’s face from the nose up peaked over the edge of the hole. “I don’t really like being underground.” Keith shrugged as if he had a choice in this.

 

The beat of Lance’s heart throbbed through his entire body, and his frustration zipped down the bond. Keith's eyes widen. “OK, OK…” He relented with a pout, and clumsily stumbled onto the ladder.

 

Lance didn’t wait for Keith to get all the way down before reaching up to pull the grate back in place. As soon as Keith’s feet touched ground with a wet slap, Lance was dragging him along again. He couldn’t stop until they were safe, if he stopped he wouldn’t be able to hold back the tsunami of emotions. He was also afraid he might fall over and not be able to get back up.

 

oOoOo

 

_“I said they went underground, I don’t have visuals, there are no cameras in the Zuko tunnels!”_

 

Pidge sounded far away, and dispersed by frantic typing. Their voice leaked from the tech cave as Lance and Keith approached. They were wet, tired, and still high. Every impulse in Lance’s base functions told him to get to that voice, and they would be safe. The long white halls of the castle were uncomfortably similar to the awful place they had just escaped. But the bundled cords and copper attachments were a relief, even if Lance kept stumbling over them.

 

Side by side, Lance and Keith tumbled through the door to the tech cave, into a sudden hush. Everyone was crammed into the small room, including their three alien hosts. Batteries and monitors towered over them, stacked to the high ceiling. Pidge’s fingers stilled over their many keyboards. Not a breath was taken.

 

Movement rushed back with a single cry, and Allura was running to Lance with a tearful smile. “We thought the worst when we lost contact!” She threw her arms around him. “I’m so relieved you’re both OK,” she cried, voice cracking. She pulled back, her silver hair was loose and haloed her head in the light of all the monitors. Lance had imagined a moment like this, an alternate reality where Maritza found him, relieved, but safe...

 

A growl, loud and threatening, rumbled. Allura’s teary eyes widened, and she turned to Keith. Her entire body tensed. “Keith I-”

 

Smoldering rims of orange stifled Allura’s words on sight, and a tremor of fear visibly shook her. With inhuman speed Keith grabbed Allura’s shoulder and yanked her away from Lance. She stumbled back, but Coran caught her before she could hit the floor.

 

“Keith!?” Lance and Shiro yelled.

 

Ja, Fen, and Luse pressed themselves against the wall when they caught sight of Keith’s orange eyes. “He has Galr’ah, in ‘em!” Ja-Berk warned.

 

Keith placed himself between Lance and the rest of the room, slowly backing up until he was flat against Lance’s chest, facing everyone else. The growl continued. His eyes narrowed, and his fangs bared. Thick, and suffocating protective instincts tried to smother Lance, and he had to continuously keep himself focused.

 

“We know he’s Galra,” Shiro assured them, but he kept an eye on Keith.

 

“But someone gave him, Rira’s Song!” Luse snapped, and tried to inch farther away.

 

“Oh, dear,” Coran whispered, inching away, while still gripping Allura’s upper arms, dragging her back with him.

 

Fen bodily blocked Luse from Keith’s view, closing the space between himself and Ja, taking Ja’s hand. “We won’t make it outt’ah here alive, unless-” Ja tried to explained.

 

“It fine!” Lance interrupted, reaching for reassuring words through the stifling fog, but it was becoming harder to think. When he spoke Keith’s growl immediately stopped, but he pressed harder into Lance’s chest, and the bond widened. A gaping maw that consumed all Lance’s senses.  

 

All three scrappers relaxed minutely. “You’re his Noye,” Luse observed through a small space between Fen and Ja. A silly little smile pulled at his mouth, like this was a teen romance movie, a reminder of how young he was.

 

Coran let go of Allura, and pointed at the pair with an expression of dawning realization. “Oh… OH!”

 

Lance couldn’t find his words, lost in the murky puddle of his mind. He nodded slowly, but even that small movement sent the room spinning. He stumbled back, but Keith whipped around and grabbed his arms, keeping his upright. “Ace?”

 

Lance was still standing, but the room flipped. His stomach swooped, and he was submerged. His vision greyed, sounds muffled, but he could hear his friends yelling.

 

_“What's happening?!”_

 

_“Keith was drugged by Vii, that's why he was acting weird!”_

 

_“Lance?! Then what's wrong with Lance?!”_

 

_“Lance, my boy?!”_

 

_“ACE!?”_

 

_“STAY BACK!”_

 

A familiar ache in Lance’s knees sharpened his perception. He was on the floor, but he didn't remember the fall. Keith’s face was all he could see, his worried orange eyes were searching. He moved closer, and ran his nose along Lance’s cheek, before nuzzling into his neck, holding him close. Lance’s arms were too heavy to lift, and remained limp at his sides. Over Keith’s shoulder the image of his team weaved. They all looked worried, but wary. They were closer than before, as if they had tried to run to him, but Fen blocked their path, and now they kept their distance. Allura was fighting tears along with Hunk, as they tried to piece together what was going on.

 

“What’s wrong with Lance?” Hunk shuffled in place, his large frame compact with concern.

 

“It’s just the drug, he’ll be fine when it wears off,” Fen explained, crossing the room and placing a comforting hand on Hunk’s arm.

 

“But he didn't take any of the drug, did he? And why’s Keith being so- possessive?” Pidge was riled up with so many unanswered questions.

 

“I can’t believe no one noticed they were Noyes,” Luse scoffed.

 

No one answered Pidge’s question, and they puffed up with irritation, fist balled at their sides and shoulders up to their ears. “What the fuck is a NOYE!?” They fumed.

 

Lance felt Keith jolt, and the room’s air shifted. The growl began again, sharper, protective, crushing Lance. Fen moved from Hunk to Pidge, and placed a calming hand on their shoulder. “Everything's fine. Right? We’re calm and non-threatening,” he said slowly, bending his every movement and word into something rounded and soft.

 

“I wa-” Pidge tried to complain, but Fen’s hand tightened.

 

“Calmly,” he warned.

 

Pidge nodded once, slow and shallow. Their eyes were wide, pupils dilated with fear. The growl that had emanated from Keith's being was pure threat, and everyone could feel it on an instinctual level. The tension began to drain from Pidge’s tight stance, and at the same time the growl tapered off.

 

“We must stay calm,” Fen repeated.

 

Lance couldn’t parse what was happening. He could only feel Keith, and a horrible ball of emotions that rose from his stomach to his chest and took root. Everything else was foggy and swaying. He finally lifted his lead arms and clung to Keith. He white knuckled the shirt on Keith’s back, trying to hold himself still. The floor was tilting, and he was scared of sliding back. His life was tilting, and he could feel the pull of panic, calling him to relapse. A cold hand squeezing his heart.

 

“Everything’s fine, Ace,” Keith mumbled, light and with a small chuckle. With no threat perceived, his mood flipped like a switch.

 

Lance squeezed harder, almost too hard. “You could have died,” it was the only solid thought he could grasp. The blinding fear, and wretched guilt. All being pressed under Keith’s reaction to the drug.

 

Keith laughed. It wasn’t loud, but it was dismissive. “But I didn’t.”  A fresh wave of mellow disregard flowed down the bond. “I’m just glad you’re OK,” he admitted with more intensity.

 

Lance knew it was the drug, but he was still scared, and angry. How could Keith shrug it off like that? He was falling again, but through time. He landed in a version of himself he had tried to leave behind, he tried so hard that he almost succeeded. A lie so well worn he almost believed it. It was a story he told himself everyday about who he was.

 

Keith almost died on Lance’s watch, and it broke his fairytale. Everything he kept locked away, all the damage he feared showing Keith was clawing its way to freedom.

 

“Stop, Ace.” The command was warm. Love and affection rolled off Keith, but it brought Lance only pain.

 

“I can’t,” Lance wanted to, so badly, but he didn’t know how. He was coming undone. The bindings of his meditation were stripped away, and he unwound, fully aware of what was happening, but powerless against it. Lance sank, but this time he didn't struggle with a soden facade that he refused to let it go of, because he was stripped bare. Chained by his fear to his anxiety, a cinder block that dragged him down until the pressure crushed his burning lungs.

 

Lance hyperventilated, light quick gasps. He gripped Keith’s shoulders, and tried to heave himself back to the surface, but Rira’s Song wedged itself between them. Lance looked into Keith’s huge orange eyes, and could see him trying to help. Trying and failing to cross the gap the drug created between them.

 

“Ace, I’m fine, you saved me. I need you to listen to me,” Keith begged, and he fought the artificial bliss.

 

Lance couldn’t hear Keith over the voice in his mind. It yelled at him, _failure, stupid, Keith almost died_. Someone he loved would be dead, and it would be his fault, again. Old channels in his heart, partly healed, flooded with acrid self loathing.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispered, broken. Finally the last of his control snapped, and all the things he refused to confront rushed forward, and fell on him like an avalanche.

 

Keith jerked back in surprise, blindsided by the intensity. “It’s OK,” he tried to reassure.

 

Lance shook his head, his quick breaths shivered as a swell of shame rose, and formed a sob in his mouth. “It’s my fault,” he confessed.

 

Keith was shaking his head, confused, but still smiling under the influence. He chuckled light heartedly. “No, babe,” he protested, and took Lance’s face in his hands. “Nothing is your fault,” he insisted gently.

 

Lance reacted violently and ripped himself from Keith’s grasp. “NO!” The wail seemed to propel Lance backwards, and he stumbled, then fell to his hands and knees. “You don’t understand! I- What I did-” he whispered harshly using the last of his short breath, and it left him heaving. “I can’t lose you- I can’t- you don’t know what I did!” He pushed the words out between his desperate gasps.

 

“Thats a bad trip,” Fen whispered from the back of the room, uneasy. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, except Hunk, who inched closer to the scene.

 

Keith remained on his knees, and didn’t try and get closer to Lance. He was tangled up by the mess in their bond. “Explain it to me, nothing you can say will shock me,” he insisted. His face was waring between concern, and a wistful smirk.

 

Frustration gripped Lance’s heart, and disgust pulled it down to his feet. Lance follow it down, and cried. His arms gave out. He dropped from his hands to the length of his forearms, and his forehead kissed the ground. The only sound that came from his open mouth was his despair, high, keening, and almost silent. From between his sorrows, he managed to speak. “I killed my sister,” he confessed to the floor. The words ripped him up, and left him tattered inside. He was dying, he must have been, it hurt so much.

 

Keith opened his mouth, and closed it again. His drug addled mind couldn’t find a way to spin that. He dropped back from his knees to sit on his heels. “OK, I didn’t expect that…” He idled, dazed and disoriented by the impact of Lance’s panic.

 

“Lance, no.” Hunk’s firm voice came from Keith’s right. He had managed to sneak close, and was almost between them now. Keith’s growl started again, and he looked surprised with himself, as if he hadn’t realized he was doing it before.

 

In his chest, Lance felt the muddled confusion and fear in Keith, and it tangled with his pain, creating a mess that coated his ribs. Every breath in and out was a cry, the sound of grief and regret. Lance didn’t acknowledge Hunk, and Hunk ignored Keith.

 

“Lance, you have to forgive yourself, you didn’t know.” Hunk pressed forward, and kneeled next to Lance.

 

The familiar warmth of Hunk’s large hand cut through the tight ache of panic, his cries quieted, and Keith’s growl stopped. Large arms wound around Lance’s chest, and he forgot where he was. He could have been in his bedroom on earth, his dorm at the Garrison, or the last place this had happened, the bathroom of the castle. His back met Hunk’s chest, and he didn’t fight it, but he couldn’t look at his friend. His rested his head on Hunk shoulder, and stared upward.

 

This was normally the part where he felt empty, hallowed of everything after the flood waters receded. But he had admitted his greatest guilt, and it hung in the air around him, forcing him to breath it back in.

 

“What happened wasn’t your fault,” Hunk insisted.

 

He finally got what he wanted, Lance had nowhere to run. “How so? I left when I wasn’t supposed to, and when she couldn’t find me she…” His breath hitched, and he let it out slowly, resigned.

 

Lance didn’t move when he heard someone shuffle up to them, but he knew it was Keith. A strange new calm radiated from him, but it was no less filled with love, only gentler, and mournful. “You’ve done this before.” Keith was talking to Hunk, allowing Lance a moment to himself, which he was grateful for.

 

“Yeah, I… he…” Hunk hesitated.

 

“You don't have to explained, I felt…” Keith place a hand to his chest. “I felt it, it was… horrible.” His voice cracked. Lance felt Keith’s glance, just a slight tip of his head, but it was so full of heartache.

 

Lance was limp, his face turned away from both of them, but he could imagine Hunk’s nervous twitch before answering. “You didn’t know? About his panic attacks?”

 

“I knew about a lot. That he got nervous sometimes, depressed, had trouble with…” Keith paused, but meaningful eye contact got across the things he knew about Lance’s self-esteem issues. “I could feel the edge of it sometimes, but I didn’t know, this hasn't happened since we-” He bit off the end of his explanation, but Hunk nodded.

 

In the long pause, Lance wished everyone would just fall away, he would wake up, and all of this would be only a dream. Keith ripped his repreve away when he finally spoke directly to Lance.

 

“Ace?”

Lance couldn’t turn and look at him, the shame kept his neck locked, and his eyes tightly shut.

 

“Lance?” Keith asked for him again. When Lance still didn't turn, a soft hand cupped his cheek and turned his head for him.

 

He could feel how close Keith was, he didn't need to open his eyes to know they were face to face.

 

 _‘Baby?’_ the question was only a little red whisper, but but it rang with a note of doubt, and fear of rejection. Lance’s eyes snapped open like he’d been slapped.

 

Right in front of him were Keith’s eyes, beautiful, and violet again, filled to the brim with concern. Keith brought their foreheads together, and closed his eyes, but Lance left his open, watching the tears slide down Keith’s cheeks. _‘I love you.’_ the solid red intention in the thought was so inexcusably Keith.

 

“But I just told you that I-” his argument was cut short by a kiss. It was innocent, soft and sweet, but judging by the volume of the gasp it drew from the otherside of the room, they might as well have been making out.

 

“Yeah, I’m still here,” Hunk mumbled to himself, red to the tips of his ears.

 

 _‘I know you, and I know there's an explanation.’_ Keith’s certainty lined each word he sent down the bond as he broke the kiss and wiped Lance’s tears away. “And you will explain, everything,” he ordered firmly. Straight forward, and comforting.

 

Lance nodded, but couldn’t stop crying. He didn’t deserve this level of devotion, and he hoped he still had it after he explained. Of course he would, this was Keith, his Keith, who loved him, and opened up to him. Keith with his stupid hair, and dumb beautiful heart. He never minced his words, and always said what he meant, and Lance needed that like he needed air.

 

With the drug out of Keith’s system, and the bond fully restored to order. Lance was able to grasp reality firmly, and his body wanted to curl around the embarrassment that was building in his chest. Keith was trying to reassure him with a caress in his mind. _‘no ones judging, they’re all just worried.’_

 

Lance leaned back, and looked behind Keith. He was right. Everyone was watching with uneasy concern and a lot of confusion. Especially Allura, who looked only a moment away from running over and throwing herself on all three of them. Keith felt his intention, and moved to the side to make room. Lance opened his arms, and before he could speak, Allura was rushing to him and enveloping him in a hug. As soon as she released Lance, she was replaced by Pidge, who collided with him so hard Hunk almost tipped backwards. Coran didn’t wait for Pidge to move, and tried to wrap his arms about all of them including Hunk, he didn’t succeed, but it was a good effort.

 

Surrounded by his friends, Lance felt for the first time like he was strong enough to face his fear. To face himself, not the lie, but the him he tucked away behind it.

 

With a whisper of cloth a shadow fell over all four of them. Lance looked up at Shiro. He didn't join the hug, but he smiled. “I’m glad your OK,” he said earnestly, but his eyes flickered to Keith, and pinned him with a dark look. It yanked on something in Lance, or maybe it was in Keith, he wasn't sure.

 

Before he could analyze it, Fen, Ja and Luse gathered around. Fen put his hands on his hips and sighed. “That could have been a whole lot worse,” he murmured, eyes sliding shut in relief.

 

“Worse?” Pidge asked, a little incredulous.

 

Ja’berk shrugged and pointed to Keith. “We could’ah all bin killed by dis fell’ah. I say a bad trip s’ah prett’ah good trade.” He was laid back, as if he hadn't been cowering moments before.

 

Pidge pulled their eyes off Keith, who everyone was looking at, and glanced up at Ja. “Bad trip?”

 

Fen chuckled. “Yeah, Rira’s Song can go down a bad road, it can pull some nasty things out of a person. Keith didn’t have much, so it probably just nudged Lance here a little too far.” he gestured at Lance. Everyone looked at him, confused. They were all likely still wondering why the drug affected Lance at all. Except maybe Coran, who met Lance’s eyes knowingly… and wiggled his eyebrows?

 

“Come on, Lance. You should get some rest, “ Hunk urged, helping him to his feet. The oddly lewd eye contact with Coran was broken, and Lance processed what was happening.

 

Hunk’s smooth personality worked wonders on the group, herding everyone along. But Lance resisted. “No, I need to explain,” he argued. Keith’s hand slipped into his for support, and he stood just behind Lance, ready to back him up. It propped him up taller than he could have stood alone.

 

Hunk unfolded his shoulders, the picture of reasonable authority, and shook his head. “No, you need to rest.” He tried to corral Lance along with Keith towards the door.

 

Lance wanted to cave into Hunk’s demand. He could curl up in bed with Keith, and the next morning go on as if this never happened. But he couldn’t do that, not this time. He put his hand on Hunk’s chest to stop him. “Hunk, I need to explain, or I might lose my nerve.” he tried not to whine, but it worked best on Hunk. “everyone probably has questions, and I don’t think I can avoid it after… you know.” He made a hand gesture to convey ‘I freaked out on drugs and told everyone I killed my sister.’

 

“Yeah,” Pidge interrupted, and looked from Lance to Keith, and back again, before glancing to their joined hands. “Please explain,” they snarked, crossed their arms and smirked.

 

“First, you two should get into some dry clothes, even if you refuse to rest,” Hunk insisted, and began ushering Lance and Keith out the door again, like a mother hen.

 

oOoOo

 

The ghost of Maritza was at Lance’s back. From time to time, through the muddled echoing steps of his team in the Castle hallway, he thought he could hear Maritza’s familiar footsteps. Over Hunk and Pidge’s muted conversation, Lance would image Maritza’s voice, humming to herself, like she did when they painted their nails together.

 

The warm hand in Lance’s squeezed, and he expected to see his sister smiling at him, but it was Keith. His small, supportive smile only paled in comparison to the loving devotion in their bond. Lance focused on Keith, and tried not to fret about what was going to occur when they all arrived at the Castle’s lounge.

 

“Show me your teeth,” Lance asked, curiously. They both slowed their walk, dropping to the back of the group.

 

“What?” Keith asked, but pulled his lips back in a mock snarl without waiting for an explanation.

 

Little fangs still framed Keith’s four center teeth. “I think those fangs are permanent,” Lance observed in a soft whisper.

 

Keith’s hand snapped up to touch his canines. “The what!” He hissed, and flinched when he poked one a little too hard.

 

Thick, crimson distress pushed its way into Lance’s mind. He could see it forming in Keith’s eyes, and jumped to reassure him. “I like them,” Lance confessed, and the distress began to thin.

 

“Really?” Keith tipped his head, a mischievous fang poking out of his smirk, and he became the picture of a naughty puppy.

 

Lance’s heart sped up, it pushed against his ribs, and closed his throat. He nodded.

 

Keith's smirk widened. With their bond blown wide open, he was clearly receiving everything Lance felt. “I guess it's not that big a deal then, he teased, and pulled Lance in for a quick kiss. Keith was still worried about his changing body, but it was resting below more urgent events, for now.

 

The conversation in front them had quieted, and their friends were peeking over their shoulders from time to time as they walked. Lance felt heat rise to his cheeks, but continued to hold Keith’s hand. Curious eyes continued to glace back, but Hunk just smiled at them, soft and happy.

 

They arrived at the lounge Lance used most often. The door was powered down, but stuck in the open position. The room was dark, and Lance stumbled past everyone. He let go of Keith and clambered over the back of one of the curved couched to reach the battery powered lamp on the floor.

 

When the soft yellow light flooded the room, Lance got back on the couch. Keith hopped over the back and landed next to him. Everyone else filed around the furniture and sat on the couch across from them, until there was no room left. Then Coran and the three scrappers perched on the arms and back of the couch.

 

Lance felt like he was in some strange improve show, and everyone wanted a clear view of him and Keith, waiting to be entertained. An awkward silence settled. Lance didn’t know where to start, his resolve had begun to fade as they walked here. He swallowed thickly.

 

“Sooo…” Pidge drew the word out, learing at the pair in a way that made Lance feel dirty. “How long?” They asked.

 

“Uh, what?” Was Lance’s intelligent response.

 

Pidge crossed their arms, and let their body slid a little lower in their seat, leaning against Hunk as they did. “How long have you two been an item? I have had a suspicion for a while that you two were into each other, but I didn't know if you had done anything about it.” They weren’t accusing, but their eyes were intensely curious, and a little disbelieving. Pigeon always had trouble accepting something they hadn't predicted.

 

Lance blinked, trying to register the question. He looked at Keith, who was looking back at him and shrugged, then he turned back to Pidge. “That's what you want to know?” He was truly bewildered.

 

Not just Pidge, but everyone answered in a combination of nods and quiet verbal confirmations.

 

“You know,” Pidge began, leaning forward, elbows on their knees, and resting their chin on their laced fingers. “We don’t actually believe you killed your sister,” they explained, trying to project a casual air, a cover for their feelings. “We know you better than that,” Pidge elaborated with a flippant hand gesture, as if this was no big deal. “You’re Lance. Goofy, caring, hardworking, Lance. I don’t think any of us thought there wasn’t a reasonable explanation.” Pidge cleared their throat, and rubbed their eyes, hiding the evidence that they cared. But then their hands dropped, and they smiled at their knees. It was a little bent, and sad in a meandering way. Sad for Lance, who had to take the long way around to realizing the truth, that his team believed in him.

 

Again, everyone agreed with Pidge, even Shiro. Hunk was sending the strongest I-Told-You-So look he could muster.

 

Lance was floored, the outright faith his friends had in him rang clear as a chime through his body. It left him feeling detached, as if this wasn’t possibly real, but also full of appreciation. He waded through the heavy emotions, and whispered a watery, “Thanks…”

 

Pidge nodded once in understanding, sweeping the mushy feelings part aside, as was their way. “So, how long,” they asked again.

 

Lance almost felt guilty allowing the conversation to veer in this direction, but was willing to avoid the topic of his sister for now.  He looked at Keith, and they locked eyes. _‘So, do we spill all the beans?’_ He thought down the bond.

 

 _‘We could…’_ the words had a sassy red edge, and Keith smirked. _‘Or we could play dumb. Give them one bean at a time.’_ Keith was playing it up a bit for Lance’s sake, and covering for his own nerves.

 

Lance didn’t mind, the distraction was welcomed, he smiled, and enjoyed the feel of Keith’s playful thoughts. They turned back to the group, and answered.

 

“A while,” they said simultaneously.

Pidge’s face went flat. “Really, guys?”

 

Keith shrugged, took Lance’s hand and held it between them. “Well your question is kinda vague. Do you mean, first hug, first kiss?” he retorted casually. “How about first fu-”

 

Lance felt the words coming and jabbed Keith so hard in their bond he felt it reverberate back. “First time you climbed into my lap like a needy cat?” he retaliated.  

 

Keith’s head whipped around. _‘You ass hat!’_ his thought snapped with a spark of irritation.

 

Lance just looked at Keith unimpressed, and lifted his unoccupied hand in a Whatcha-gunna-do gesture. _‘You said one bean at a time, not talk about our sex lives,’_ he thought back, calm and blue.

 

Keith huffed, and his shoulders dropped in defeat. _‘Fine,’_ he conceded.

 

“Does anyone else feel like they’re having a conversation of their own?” Pidge grumped in a stage whisper.

 

 _‘We should probably answer the question, Pidge looks more ornery than usual.’_ Lance pointed out. _‘I would say our first kiss in the black out,’_ he suggested.

 

 _‘Really?’_ Keith's irritation faded, leaving his thoughts softer, but also a little sly. _‘I would have said the conversation we had after the first time I sucked your-’_

 

“Keith!” Lance yelled out loud unintentionally, face completely red, but it succeeded in disrupting Keith’s line of thought.

 

Pidge jumped to their feet and pointed at the couple. “They ARE having a conversation!” they accused, keen as usual.

 

“What?! No!” Lance denied, lying poorly.

 

“Yeah,” Keith confirmed with a shrug, at the same time.

 

Pidge flopped back into their seat. “Well now I’m not sure, that wasn’t very in sync…” They pondered, quickly glancing back and forth between them.

 

“You surprised us!” Lance argued, completely invalidating his own denial. Flustered at his mistake, he slapped a hand over his mouth like he could shove the words back in.

 

Keith took a long, slow breath in while he rubbed his face with his free hand. “Why are you like this?”  He whispered with his exhale.

 

While Lance continued to flail internally, Keith took a moment to collect himself. Then he cut through the chao in Lance with a decisive thought. _‘We should just tell them.’_

 

Lance hadn’t really included the bond in his mental list of things they were going to tell the team. It still felt so personal. Letting Hunk in on the secret had been a big step, and Hunk was his closest friend. But they wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret forever, especially if you calculate in how bad they were at hiding it…

 

Lance relented. “OK, we tell them.”

 

The hush from the couch across from them buzzed with anticipation. With a single glance, Keith conveyed he would begin the explanation. “Lance and I- we- well…”

 

Keith’s resolve had been strong, but when he reached for the words, they became tangled in his mind. Lance felt it happening, and decided to start from the very beginning. “We had been training for a while, just us, before the paladin bond began outside of voltron,” he supplied.

 

Keith nodded, finally catching the thread of thoughts, and expanded on it. “When we first felt the bond, we thought it was what everyone else experienced, but… It kept growing.”

 

Lance jumped in, a welling of excitement pushed him onward. He should have been exhausted, but strangely wasn’t. “Yeah, The bond I formed with Pidge the first time was weak, and it faded, but the bond with Keith was stronger, and never completely stopped?”

 

It was beginning to feel freeing, finally letting his friends in on their secrets, even as familiar doubt crawled into his chest. It was a feeling that would sit heavy in him the next morning, as if he had lied, simply because the truth was so foreign, and the lies we're second nature. It was a special type of anxiety, the last time he battled with it was when he had come out to Keith.

 

“Yeah, like I said, it grew... really fast,” Keith repeated. “At first it was as if we always knew when we were near each other-” he abruptly stopped. His eyes slid over Lance, a faint echo of a memory trembled between them. The first time they had truly acknowledged that something was connecting them. A strange new awareness, a tentative affection, and Keith quietly admitting he wasn’t afraid of the bond, because it was with Lance. _“because it's you.”_ He had whispered. Lance remembered it so clearly, all he had been able to say back was, _“Why?”_ because he had been insecure, and tired from all the weight he had borne alone. But he had grown since then, and wasn’t alone anymore. He would always have his anxiety, and depression, but he also had the support of all the people in this room.

 

Lance and Keith smoothly coordinated their conversation without words, simply unconscious indications of who was going to speak next. Lance took his cue. “Over time we were able to feel some of each others emotions, then it changed, and we could feel… intentions?” He stumbled. The bond was so abstract, and at times he had no words for it.

 

“Yeah,” Keith confirmed, his gaze drifted back to his teammates, a little uncomfortable with their rapt attention. “And not like in battle, but specific intentions. Sort of like how we talk to our Lions,” he clarified.

 

Lance felt a little uncomfortable admitting to the next part. The level of their connection was scary, even for himself sometimes, but he didn’t back down. “Then it was words. One, then two, until we could just have entire conversations in our minds.”

 

Keith undoubtedly felt Lance’s unease. With one glance he confirmed they were continuing, and pushed forward. “Now… well, now it’s like everything we think and feel travels through both of us in a loop. I mean, there's still a sense of privacy, sorta. If we avoid thinking about something the other won’t know about it, or we can choose not to explain our emotions, leaving it up to interpretation.” Keith leaned towards Lance as he finished, pressing their arms together.

 

Truthfully they had move beyond privacy. Their bond had transcended the previous night, and Lance didn’t need to feel Keith out to know his intentions, he was pretty sure he also didn't need to interpret Keith’s emotions anymore either. The line of communication between them was as seamless as his own conscious and unconscious mind.  Everything was so clear… “That changed,” Lance commented. The realization left his mouth the moment it had formed.

 

Keith tipped his head in consideration. “I guess it has,” he agreed. He was unbothered by their new level of closeness, like it was what he expected all along. But the lines blurring between them had never bothered Keith, he seemed to revel in it.

 

Allura was on the edge of her seat, covering her mouth as if to contain her excitement. But her fingers weren’t strong enough, and she blurted out from between them. “What’s changed?!”

 

“They must have reached the final level of their bonding, complete trust was formed,” Coran offered, with a certainty in his voice that caught Lance’s attention.

 

“You know what the bond is?” Lance stared at Coran, and he could feel that same stark disbelief in Keith.

 

“Well, yes.” Coran was being very matter-of-fact, and stroked his mustache. “I probably wouldn’t have figured it out if your Altean heritage hadn't come to light, but it did, and then when you calmed Keith earlier…” His admission trailed off, unwilling to dredge up more serious topics just yet.

 

“I **knew** it!” Hunk hollered. Everyone jumped in surprise, but their focus sharpened and took aim. Hunk didn’t pay any attention, he was wrapped up in his own thoughts, brimming with excitement, the way he did when he was proving a theory.  

 

Lance rubbed his unruly hair, his fingers catching the pink clip he always wore. “Care to elaborate?” he asked, recognizing that Hunk was lost in his own realing thoughts.

 

“Huh?” The montage of possibilities cleared from Hunk’s eyes, as he realized he hadn’t been speaking, but thinking instead. “Oh! Sorry. I meant I was right when I theorized that Lance and Keith not being completely humans was a factor.” He shrugged his large shoulders is a casual roll.

 

Coran’s finger was in the air, ready to lecture, before Hunk had finished speaking. “Why yes, you are absolutely correct. You see-”

 

“You knew about their mind meld!?” Pidge shouted.

 

Everyone startled again. Lance rubbed his eyes, a small pain was forming behind them. The strain of the conversation was skittering down the bond, red and blue, pulling at Keith as much as Lance.

 

Hunk slid as far from Pidge as possible. He rubbed his arm nervously. “Uh, yeah?” He averted his eyes, staring at the wall. “Not for long…” he muttered, guiltily.

 

Pidge slumped back, arms crossed, indignant, and petulant. “I can’t believe this, I had my suspicions about them boinking, but I can’t believe I missed-”

 

“Pidge,” Shiro interrupted, using their name as a warning, and Pidge begrudgingly went silent.

 

It was a classic dad move. Lance was torn between commenting on it, and trying to overcome his embarrassment, either way, the stress behind his eyes was swept aside. He couldn’t handle the thought of Pidge theorizing about him and Keith… “boinking”. It was so awkward, and he felt it tumbling around in his chest. Oh god, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, and his intrusive thoughts went wild. Oh god! Pidge wrote reports on everything, did they write one about… OH GOD!

 

Keith snorted, loudly and unashamed. He was trying to contain his amusement, but it was building, and tears were forming in the corners of his eyes. When the pressure became unbearable he broke into peals of laughter. “You- You- oh man! Lance!” he tried to explain but he could hardly breathe.

 

“It’s not funny!” Lance snapped, and pulled his hand out of Keith’s. He turned away, and crossed his arms. He could feel his face becoming hot. The almost palatable amusement rolling of Keith didn’t lighten Lance’s irritation, it was at his expense after all.

 

Keith only laughed harder, wheezing and crying, fueled by Lance’s indignation. Strange looks were being sent his way, many of their friends were unused to this Keith that Lance was so familiar with. His laughs were tapering off, and he wiped his eyes as he explained. “Lance is embarrassed about-”

 

“Don’t tell them!” Lance hissed over his shoulder.

 

“-Pidge thinking about our sex life, he’s worried she kept notes or something,” he continued as if Lance hadn't interrupted. “And it's adorable,” he added with a smirk at Lance.

 

With an over exaggerated huff, Lance turned away from Keith a little more, but didn’t actually move farther from him. Their sides remained pressed closed together as Lance sulked. He stayed strong in his resentment, even against the growing tide of Keith’s affection, but the red edged fondness was fed by Lance’s annoyance, and he felt his resistance eroding. Only a few moments later, Lance glance at Keith, their eyes caught, and a small smile brightened his face despite his resolve to be angry.

 

“Oh, my god…” Pidge groaned, they slid their hands under their glasses and pressed them firmly to their face. “They’re like a married couple!” They bemoaned into their palms, then quickly flung their hands forward, gesturing at the couple, almost ripping their glasses right off their face. “I mean LOOK at them, I can’t believe we didn’t notice!” They yelled, absolutely astounded.

 

“I think we all had our suspicions,” Coran pointed out. “But yes, their relationship is a little more advanced than I had anticipated…” he professed.

 

Allura nodded, “I was sure Lance had feelings for Keith, I just didn’t know they had already… you know.” She waved a hand at them.

 

In a quieter voice than usual, Shiro also put in his own suspicions. “I knew Keith was interested in Lance, for a while… But I also had no idea that they were already so close.” He shrugged one shoulder, the other refused to lift his Glara arm, and tried to catch Keith’s eye.

 

Anger, like shards of glass, breached the bond, and Lance grabbed Keith’s hand. “So, what do you know about our mind meld situation, Coran?” He asked louder than necessary to force the conversation back on track.

 

Coran ignored the hostility present on Keith's face, and smiled with feigned ignorance. “Well! I should probably start by explaining Glara mating-” He began, chipper.

 

“WHOA!” Lance threw his arms out, letting go of Keith. “We don’t need to get graphic, I already got the talk. It’s actually a funny story, because the twins were hiding outside my room, and Mamá didn’t realize it. They were only ten at the time. Oh man, the questions they asked afterwards… hehe,” Lance’s nervous rambling trailed off. Some scattered chuckles followed.

 

With a blank and unimpressed expression, Coran ignored Lance. “Glara mating is more than a physical act. For them it is not about reproduction, it is about finding their other half, their life mate.” Coran paused and gave the couple a significant look. For a tick, Lance and Keith acknowledged the confirmation of what they already knew, that this bond was for life. It passed between them without words, and settled into the cradle of their love.  

 

When neither bondmate freaked out, Coran nodded as if confirming his own suspicions, and continued. “The Galra are capable of forming strong mental bonds. For a time it was believed that only Galra could bond to other Glara, but all that changed when an Altean named Honerva, met Zarkon.”

 

Lance registered Keith’s surprise, and his reaction to Lance’s lack of surprise. Their eyes met, and Keith questioned him with only a passing feeling that didn’t even form words. Lance pressed into Keith the notion of _‘not now’_ , and they both turned back to the team.

 

Other than Allura, everyone else had gasped and began mumbling quietly with each other, but Coran ignored their reactions, and moved on, cutting through the din. He kept his gaze focused on Lance and Keith, very noticeably not letting his eyes stray to the Princess.

 

“Honerva and Zarkon’s relationship was the first recorded instance of a Galra bonding with another race. When it happened, both societies were shocked, but it truly solidified the alliance between Alteans and Glara. Over time it became a normal occurrence for Glara and Altean to come together, the bond was possible due to the similarity in life energy, and many Altean’s enjoyed the the security of the bond which they couldn’t have with their own kind. A Galra chooses a mate, in part, by how their energy resonates with another. Much like how a Lion chooses a pilot, Although some believe there is something deeper.” Coran concluded, with a soft but sad smile. His eyes drifted over the bonded pair, and he sighed, a sound filled with with regret. “The Galra were a secluded race for a long time. They kept trade and interactions to a minimum, until Voltron was built, then everything changed. When the Galra learned that they could bond with Alteans, there was a drastic increase in hybrids…” Coran finally glanced at Allura, but she steadfastly refused to look back, and continued to glare at the floor. Coran took a deep breath, and sorrow seemed to settle into his bones. “The first generation of hybrids was born only a few years before the Princess. Among them was Zarkons son, Lotor.”

 

A small sound, a choked whine of anger punctuated Coran’s explanation. And although the sound clearly came from Allura, she remained distant, and Coran fell silent for a long moment. Lance stared at Allura for the duration of the lull, and he knew she had intentionally left this information out when she confessed to Haggar’s identity. Some of the Mage’s in the Galra forces were certiantly Altean, but some were hybrids, and that might have been the greatest shame in her eyes. Her people were betrayed by a race they embraced so thoroughly, that they tied themselves together mentally and physically. Lance understood the power of the bond, and the chink it must have been in the armor of Altea’s loyalty to their own kind. Allura was ashamed, she must have felt as if her people handed the Galra their own demise in the form of power over quintessence. Lance could relate to the shame of wanting to hide a mistake so large it cost you everything, even if it wasn’t her fault.

 

Keith brushed Lance’s mind, curious, but Lance shook him off again, gently, and Keith let it go, for now. He trusted Lance to fill him in, without even a hint of doubt. With a small shift, and an even smaller distance to close, Lance leaned over, and pressed a kiss to Keith’s temple. He hadn’t fully formulated the desire to do it before it was over. Lance blushed, but refused to be embarrassed. He looked at his friends, daring them to comment, but was met with soft looks, and small smiles.

 

Even Coran, through his layers of grief and sadness, spared an affectionate smile, it pushed against the weight of his frown. Then, it collapsed in the shadow of what he said next. “This isn’t the end of the story,” he confessed. “Once the first generation of hybrid reached maturity, a new discovery was made. The mixing of Altean with Galra opened new doors for the bond. The hybrid’s discovered that they were capable of bonding with a variety of race’s, creating new and powerful alliances.” Coran looked down at his own hands, hiding the shame in his eyes. “Before Zarkon’s initial betrayal, he already had many strong allies due to bond’s between the races, and after, he continued to use bonding to bring societies to heel.”

 

Pidge, ever the realist, pointed out the first flaw they noticed. “But we haven’t seen any societies with bonded royalty.”

 

Coran nodded. “From what I have gathered on our journey, it seems people only remember myths of Alteans and Galras bonding, and knowledge of the bond between Glara and other races was lost… well not lost, but intentionally, and forcefully forgotten...”  

 

Hunk, spoke up next, only a fraction before Pidge. “Why?”

 

Coran looked at Hunk, eyes accusing, as if he could have avoided answering if no one had asked. Then his gaze slid to Allura, who remained silent. His eyes slipped over her, unwilling to linger. Coran refocused on Lance and Keith, resigned. “Zarkon’s and the Glara empire’s power grew, they manipulated quintessence and built weapons, and ultimately… destroyed Altea.” He pause, a silent remembrance, and then moved on. “From what I've gathered, destroying a planet didn't go over well. When the power given by Altea was turned against it, many bonded to those outside the empire had a change of heart, and opposed the oppression that followed. Eventually, bonded pairs didn't pull loyalty to the Galra as they were meant to, but some betrayed the empire and sided with their mates species. In light of this, and having already accumulated a large amount of power, Zarkon began a campaign to reject hybrids. He claimed them weakened by the thinning of Glara blood as they became more and more mixed. To show his commitment to his cause, he began his campaign by banishing his own son, the Prince.” At a loss for what to say next, Coran shrugged, a tiny forlorn movement.

 

The silence that fell was short lived.

 

“So, Zarkon is a space Nazi?” Pidge blurted, and looked around for back up. “Like, literally a Nazi,” they reiterated.

 

Every earthling in the room agreed with nods, or murmured words, but everyone else looked a little baffled, and Allura didn’t raise her eyes from the floor. Coran and Ja were immediately curious about Nazi’s, and Pidge dove into a history lesson, backed by Hunk, and even Shiro.

 

Lance remained quite, eyes on the Princess, while a ruby rush of confusion surrounded his mind. The bond was swimming with questions from Keith, but one in particular floated to the surface. “So, I’m also part Altean?” He asked through the din of chatter, dropping the room into silence.

 

Hunk tapped his chin in thought, and shrugged. “You must be at least little bit,” he concluded, a little baffled.

 

Keith crossed his arms. “Then why can’t I open doors…” He grumbled, then muttered, “that doesn’t seem fair,” he pouted.

 

Coran joined in, his curious mind working out the math. “You are dominantly human, but much more Glara than Altean. You have enough Glara in you to control their tech, and not enough of our DNA to control Altean. Even if your mother was half Altean, and she likely wasn’t considering how long it’s been since Altea existed, you would only be a fourth Altean.”

 

“Yeah, we don’t even know how much Altean Lance is, but we know it's more than you,” Pidge pointed out.

 

The room dissolved into disjointed conversations.

 

The yellow light from the lamp painted the white couches, and blanketed the floor. Everyone was wrapped in warm tones, comforting, and smiling, except Allura. She remained distant, and melancholy. Keith continued to be disappointed by his inability to control the Castle, and Coran was still pestering everyone about what exaclty Nazi’s were. Lance allowed it all to fall into the back ground, and pulled a shroud of meditation around himself. A small red string was threaded through a pinhole in Lance’s mental barrier, allowing Keith to keep tabs on him, and provide a comforting presence.

 

The commotion in the room slipped around Lance, and his thoughts wandered aimlessly. His memories surfaced, but he didn’t focus on them, only allowed them to play out as events separate from himself. Stained carpets, colorful nail polish, moonlit beaches, and hot rain. The memories Lance tried so hard to lock away were released, and he organized them, preparing. But each moment he filed in order, tightened a band around his heart, squeezing. He wasn’t sure if he would ever overcome his guilt, it felt monumental and impervious, too large to wrap his hand around and lift.

 

When Lance thought his heart might stop, compressed beyond hope of beating, suddenly something soft and light brushed his barriers. Surprised, and curious, he stopped meditating. Empathy, fluffy and pink, placed itself on the shore of Lance’s mind. He met Allura’s eyes, and they were wide, but understanding. Slowly, her plush presence skimmed the surface of Lance’s waters, and he felt a core of steel under her many layers of compassion. They shared their guilt and shame, recognizing the similarities. They weren’t alone.

 

Lance wanted to assure Allura that she had nothing to feel guilty about, but he could hear Hunk’s words echoing back at him, telling him the same. His mind stumbled, but Keith’s warm current surfaced from below, and steadied him. He slid through Lance, like a serpent. Graceful, powerful, creating barely a ripple. He licked upward, as an unquenchable crimson flames that heated Lance all the way through.

 

Red, and loving, Keith’s mind spread, reaching out to curiously skim Allura’s soft intentions, he accepted her kindly, as a friend, and as family. A small gasp drew the rooms attention. The Princess placed her hands gently over her mouth, and her eyes grew shinny. “You two are beautiful,” she breathed, amazed.

 

“How are we… you’re not,” Lance muttered, tapering off, as their connection came to an end, and the pink cotton drifted away, more peaceful than when she arrived.

 

Allura blinked a few times quickly, clearing the tears from her eyes. “I’ve always had a connection with the Lions, so I’m involved in the paladin bond, even if only loosely. But we…” She glanced at the floor between her feet, and clasped her hands tightly. “We had a moment of completely synchronized emotion.” She unwound her fingers, and waved a hand dismissively, as if to fan her bad feelings away.

 

“Did you just connect with them? Its wild, isn’t it?” Hunk asked excitedly over Pidge’s head.

 

Pidge threw their hand over Hunk’s face and pushed him out of their personal space. “Wait, you connected with them, Hunk?” They demanded, with a smidge of jealousy. Their connection was before the bond really formed.

 

Hunk swatted Pidge’s hand away. “Yeah, once… well twice. But the first time I only felt Keith a little, like he was hiding or something.” Pidge eyed Hunk as if they wanted to climb into his brain. He ignored them, and spoke to Allura over their head again. “So, you felt it, right?”

 

Pidge whipped around and beared down on Allura. “What's it like?”

 

With a nervous chuckle, Allura leaned away from Pidge, as they continued to encroach. “Its amazing, as if… well-” She tried to explained, raising her hands to ward Pidge off.

 

“It’s like they're completely in sync, right!?” Hunk blurted.

 

Lance watched the odd conversation unfold as if he wasn’t in the room. With all the over enthusiastic flailing -mostly from Pidge- Shiro had been dislodged from the couch, and leaned against the wall on the right. Corran had wandered off, and all three scrappers retreated to the safety of the floor between the two couches.

 

A small, and awkward sounding cough pulled the attention of the room. Shiro pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against, and pulled his shoulders back. “Come one team, it’s getting late, and we should proba-”

 

“Refreshments incoming!” Coran bellowed as he trotted into the room, balancing three trays, one of which was covered in cups and bottles. His trays swayed, and he leaned to the side, trying to rebalance his burden.

 

Ja jumped to his feet and ran to Coran, righting his tipping tray. “Whoa! Watch’ah, bub!” he cried, and relieved Coran of the heaviest one.

 

In short order, everyone had food and drink. Lance looked into his very full glass, and raised a brow at the brown liquid he had never seen before. He sniffed it, and reared back. It smelled fermented. He searched out Coran, and gave him a significant look, and tipped his head down at his cup. Coran shrugged, and then winked.

 

It seemed that everyone else also had alcohol, even Pidge had a small glass. Lance took a tiny sip, slightly concerned it would be nunvill all over. But his mouth filled with a sweet, fruity flavor, that ended with nutty tones. Another mouth full later, and Lance could feel a tingling warmth in his chest. He glanced at Keith, and found his boyfriend staring back.

 

A gentile, ruby wave washed over Lance, and it whispered. _‘Ready?’_ it asked.

 

No amount of breathing could calm Lance’s heart. He took another large mouth full of his drink, and Keith follow suit. The burn in Lance’s chest reverberated between them, and the inside edge of his lips became numb. “Sure,” he mumbled back, and ran his tongue along the seam of his own lips. The sensation felt distant.

 

Everyone was chatting, and eating. Trying not to think about today's failure of a mission, and what that would mean for their future, Voltron’s future, or the outcome of the war. Shiro was still alone against the wall, but he was staring at Keith, and being ignored for his efforts.

 

Lance inhaled, slowly, focusing on his expanding chest, pulling the air into his diaphragm. Then, he used his exhale to begin a story that had never passed his lips before.

 

“My sister’s name was Maritza, and she was my best friend.”

 

Dead silence followed his statement, and Lance broke it himself.

 

“She was wonderful. My parents had her before they were even married, so she was twelve years older than me. But we had a special relationship, and were closer than my other siblings.” Lance took another sip of his drink, and closed his eyes, tracking its progress down his throat. When the burn faded, he continued. “My oldest memory is of her. She was beautiful, and kind, and shouldn’t have died when she did.” He took another sip, and bit his quickly numbing bottom lip, holding back the ‘it should have been me,’ that tried to slip out. But the ghost of his intentions haunted his story. Keith slipped an arm around Lance, supporting him as he moved on. “I didn’t know it at the time, but everything started on a rainy day, when I was thirteen.”

 

_Absolutely nothing could be worse than today. They were supposed to go to the beach, but it was raining. Lance was tempted to sneak off to the beach alone, but the rain was so heavy he probably couldn’t see the ocean anyway. They were supposed to have a picnic, and go swimming. The beach wasn’t far from his house. The arcade Lance liked to go to was on the boardwalk only two blocks away, and the beach was on the way there, you could see his house through the fence, mostly. He went to the Ocean often, but this trip was special._

 

 _Lance dragged his feet around the living room, glancing at the glass sliding door every few seconds, as if the rain would suddenly let up. Normally Lance loved the rain, but not today. Maritza had just graduated college, the first in the family, and she moved back home. It was rare to have all his siblings in the same place, and today was supposed to be that day, once Ritza got home from work. The atmosphere in his family had been down since their_ _abuela passed a few months ago, and he hoped that today would lift everyone's spirits._

 

_Lance heaved a sigh and flopped back onto the couch. His awkwardly long limbs thrown haphazardly around._

 

_Angella trudged through the entrance, her face was sour, and she looked around as if the room was below her. Ever since she started college she acted like she was better than the rest of the family. Lance sneered at her, but she still joined him on the couch with a lazy stride._

 

_“Whats up, small fry?” she asked. Her tone was friendlier than her face, and she threw an arm over his shoulder. They had an odd understanding between them, a hateship of sorts. She was the “bad” daughter, and even snuck Lance some tequila once._

 

_Lance tried not to smile, today was supposed to be terrible. “The rain,” he muttered back._

 

_Before Angella could answer Emma wandered in. Her chin was raised, and her black eyeliner was perfect. With a little smirk she surveyed the room. “Hey bitches,” She greeted._

 

_Angella snorted. “Nice.”_

 

_Emma took the seat on Lance’s other side, slouching, and crossed her arms and ankles. She snapped her gum and looked out the glass door. Her eyes were pensive, and her red lips were a thin, thoughtful line. She didn't talk as much since she graduated high school. She was starting college in september, and Lance wondered if she was nervous. Emma was usually the opinionated, know-it-all with an attitude, but it was a front. That habit ran in the family._

 

_Loud footsteps, like someone was carelessly dragging their feet in sorrow, announced Arlo’s arrival. He sullenly walked into the room, ignored everyone, stopped in front of the glass door, and smacked his forehead into it. He pressed his face to the glass and glared at the rain. “This sucks!” he lamented loudly, and slid down the glass to the floor as if the world were ending._

 

_Lance ignored Arlo. He was always like this, Mamá said he was at “that age.” Something about tweens, and hormones. Lance liked to think he never went through that phase, he was thirteen already, and was sure he had never been that dramatic._

 

_The house rumbled, and the floors shooks. It was a sign of the harbingers of chaos. Their stampede like approach a clear indication of their mood. The twins, Jules and Julia tore into the room at top speed, screaming, and carrying a pail and shovel each. Jules’ was orange, and Juliu’s was blue. They circled the room twice, but the sound of their uncle’s spanish cursing scared them off. He ran into the room, yelling up a storm and followed after his youngest niece and nephew, trying to reign them in._

 

_The house activity was just short of a natural disaster, as usual. Lance rubbed the bridge of his nose, exasperated beyond his years._

 

 _The front door opened and closed with a sharp snap. Lance’s eyes flickered to the living room entrance, and he dropped his hand. She would come this way to avoid their_ _Mamá_ _, who was in the kitchen. The mudroom opened to the kitchen in front, or you could slip through the arched entryway to the living room on the left. Sure enough, Maritza appeared, sopping wet and miserable. Most people would attribute her down cast face to the weather, and her shivering shoulders to the unusually cold day. But Lance saw her red rimmed eyes, and the tears trying to hide in the rain water._

 

_Maritza didn’t stop to talk, and avoided eye contact on her way through._

 

_Lance didn’t hesitate to wiggle out from under Angella’s arm and run after Ritza, ignoring her indignant grunt. Angie and Ritza always had a strained relationship, and sometimes Lance felt like Angie resented how close he was with Ritza. He tried to not linger on the thought as he reached the bedroom. He was about to go in, but a phone rang, and Maritza answered. The door had failed to latch, leaving a crack for him to peek through._

 

_“I said NO Benny!” Maritza yelled with a ferocity Lance had never heard from her._

 

_He held his breath, afraid she would sense him snooping, but she only sobbed, and yelled._

 

_“We are OVER! Get it through your head!... NO… you can’t do that to me and expect me to stay! … why won’t you just leave me alone… that's NOT love!”_

 

_Her anger dissolved into fear and sorrow. A shattering crack shook the door, and Lance jumped away, frightened. But Maritza’s scared cries drew him back, and he slipped into the room. The door scraped when he pushed it open, as it swept aside the remains of Ritza’s phone._

 

_Lance crept to the bed, and climbed up next to her. Without question, she threw herself into his chest and hugged him tight. “Chiquito,” she cried into him._

 

_Lance wrinkled his nose at the nickname, and reached for her bedside table and grabbed her hairbrush and a few colorful ties. With his sisters face pressed to him, he began to brush her hair. Maybe a four strand braid into a bun would cheer her up._

 

“I didn’t really get it at the time. I thought it was a just a bad breakup, her first real heartache. Something I was too young to understand.” The regret was a solid punch to the chest. It fanned out to the very tips of Lance’s limbs and bounced back to his heart where it lived. He took another long draw from his glass. His fingers were numb, and at the same time sensitive to his every heartbeat. “Almost a year later, things were not going well for me. I wanted to escape, and I always wanted to go to the beach at night…” He confessed.

 

_“NO, Mijo, and thats final!”_

 

 _Lance glared at his_ _mamá_ _. He was fourteen years old, plenty old enough to go to the beach at night like the other kids, but his mom treated him like a child! She wouldn’t even let him go with Ritza. His uncle said that because she was a girl it was dangerous, but Lance was willing to protect her! He said as much, and his uncle's mouth fell into a crooked little frown. Lance knew what that look meant, and it wasn’t his fault that Arlo was already as big a him…_

 

 _“FINE!” Lance yelled back at his_ _mamá_ _. He hardly dared to raise his voice at her, unless he wanted a permanent spatula mark on his ass, but he was worked up, and anxious. He hated the way his uncle looked at him, commented on his mannerisms, and even scrutinized how close he was with Ritza. He was too old to be coddled, shouldn’t paint his nails, braid her hair… he was just a pan- Lance squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the thoughts back down._

 

 _When he opened them again, his_ _mamá was glaring_ _at him, but showed mercy. Maybe she understood on some level how he felt. She lowered her wooden spoon, and sighed. “Just get your sister and go to the arcade or something. Get out before your uncle gets home, you know he’s not happy with you right now.”_

 

_Guilt, that why he was spared, it was written across her face. She would never defend him, only hide him. Lance looked at his feet, as if he was trying to set fire to them with his mind. After his suspension a few months ago, his mamá demanded an explanation, and he told her the truth. Ritza had been right, she took it better than expected… but she told his uncle, and he didn’t take it well..._

 

_Lance gave a small nodded, relenting, and he ran to Maritza’s room to ask if they could go out._

 

“I was so angry. I felt rejected. I-” Lance choked on his words, his throat tightened, and they couldn’t push through. But Keith was there, filling him, and holding him up. No one spoke as Lance collected himself, and he was grateful. “I wasn’t completely accepted by my family. My uncle had certain ideas about… a lot of things, and I didn’t fit in. After I came out, I spent a lot of time with Maritza, or at Hunk’s house.” Both Lance’s hands wrapped around his drink, his knuckles were white, and the drink trembled. “That day, I was at the end of my rope. So I did as my mamá asked, and went to the arcade with Ritza.”

 

_Flashing lights, chimes, songs, and bells. Smelly VR head gears, and touch worn controls. The arcade never changed. Lance and his sister had been there for hours, but she never complained. He wanted to lose himself in the games, and moved from one shooter to the next, dominating the scoreboard. Maritza watched him sometimes, and other times wander off to a rhythm game of some sort._

 

_A moment ago, Lance was sure Maritza had been behind him, But after he blasted a Zombie, and double tapped to be sure, she was gone. He had flipped up his VR visor, and looked over his shoulder to see if she had been watching him on screen, because let's be honest, that was awesome, but her spot was empty. Lance pulled the helmet off and tried to seek her out through the glare and din. She wasn’t at any of her prefered games, he checked the prize counter, and awkwardly snooped around the door to the ladies room for a few minutes._

 

_He didn’t spot her until he wandered to the front of the arcade. Through the huge front opening of the building, he saw her on the wooden planked boardwalk, she was on her phone. A little wrinkled between her eyes conveyed her annoyance, but it smoothed over when she spotted Lance. He could tell her words were clipped by the sharp movement of her mouth, she couldn’t hide that behind her smile._

 

_She ended the call abruptly, and glared at her phone, only to pull on a cheery smile when she turned to Lance. “Lance!” She called and jogged over to him. Her eyes were full of mischief, layered over worry. “Can you do me a favor, manito?” She asked in a conspiratorial whisper._

 

_A smile tugged at Lance, despite his concern. Maritza always trusted him when she was being sneaky, it was one of their things, among many. He leaned forward as if someone was trying to eavesdrop. “Yeah!” he stage whispered. This was a perfect opportunity, he could sneak off to the beach for a few minutes, and no one would know. He justed wanted to feel free, and see the stars in the ocean, and this way Ritza could claim ignorance if he got caught._

 

_Maritza’s smile widened, and If there was a tightness around her sparkling eyes, Lance thought it might have been his imagination. “OK, Hot Shot, here's the deal,” she began and then leaned even closer. “I need to run off for a few minutes, maybe twenty at most. So I’m trusting you to not get into trouble, understand?” She raised a brow, as if considering whether he was trustworthy or not._

 

_Lance pretended to take his time deciding, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know, what do I get out of this?” he asked._

 

_Maritza leaned back and crossed her arms, putting one hand under her chin, she copied Lance’s thinking pose. “How about, first movie choice for the next three movies?” She offered with mock caution._

 

_Lance stroked his chin again and counter offered. “Five.”_

 

_“Four, and thats final,” Maritza closed the deal, and they shook on it very professionally._

 

“She ran off, and I only waited five minutes before I left the arcade. I knew it was wrong, but I was so angry… and-” Lance gripped his empty glass so hard it began to crack. He couldn’t feel any pain, his hands were disconnected from his wrist. Keith carefully pried the cup from his fingers. “Heh, I guess I don’t know my own strength,” Lance covered with a fake chuckle.

 

Keith put the cup on the floor and took Lance’s hands. “Yeah,” he mumbled, but was shooting Allura a significant look.

 

Lance laced his fingers with Keith’s. “Anyway,” he picked up. “I ran to the beached. It was closed, so I had to climb the fence.”

 

_Lance was an explorer. He wanted to discover, to walk until there was no road left, as far from disappointment as possible. The air had a different quality when you crossed a new boundary, it smelled like excitement, and of someplace uninhabited. The empty beach was quiet, and the silence settled between Lance’s ears. It was serene, blanketing the adrenaline coursing through him from climbing the fence._

 

_The wind had swept away all the footprints in the sand. Leaving it as it should be, smooth, with the illusion of abandonment. Lance walked to the water's edge, and kept going. It was up to his knees, brisk and refreshing. He was surrounded by the stars of the ocean, but Lance wanted to go farther. He left the arcade, and risked punishment to be here. His mama would never let him go in the ocean when it was dark, but Maritza would understand. She always did. Right now she was off doing something secret too._

 

_Lance didn’t stop walking until the water was to his waste, and he was surrounded by the universe. It rippled around him, endless, cold and perfect. His lungs wanted to seize from the cold, take a breath and hold it. He knew it was dangerous, he could get pulled under, drown right here when no one knew where he was, but he didn’t care. If he died right now, at least it would be in a moment of quiet contentment._

 

_Maritza would be pissed if she knew what he was thinking. Lance’s wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but he couldn’t feel his toes. It was definitely longer than the few minutes he told himself he would stay. With reluctant steps he dragged himself out of the water, and back over the fence._

 

“When I got back to the arcade, Ritza wasn’t there.” Lance could hardly grasp the thread of his story, but he held on tight, he was almost finished. “I had been gone longer than I thought. I knew she was going to be worried, so I ran home. Only, Maritza wasn’t there either.” Tears came, unending, but not disruptive. Just quiet streams. “I immediately told my parents, and they went to the arcade. The manager said my sister had come back looking for me, that she had been upset, and when I wasn’t there she ran off to search for me.”  Lance wished he had another drink, but squeezed Keith’s hand instead. “My parents called the police, but they blew us off, they said an hour wasn’t long enough to worry. But later that night when she never came home...”

 

_¿por qué dejaste el Arcade?!” Lance’s uncle screamed, accusingly, and Lance trembled under his fury. His mamá stood to the side, caught between stopping her brother, and agreeing with him._

 

 _Lance looked up at his uncle. He didn't have an answer they wanted to hear. “_ _Pe- pedir- pedir perdón,” Lance stammered through his tears._

 

_He didn’t know what else to say, all he wanted was to go look for his sister. But his apology stoked the fire in his uncle, and after all the tension of the last few months since his suspension, he lashed out with the unspoken truth. “debería haber sido usted!”_

 

_“André!” His mama yelled, but it was too late._

 

_The words had cut deep, and Lance recoiled. Even if they had all thought it, and his uncle didn’t want him around anymore, he had never expected to hear it._

 

_Lance ran. His uncle tried to grab him, but he ducked and made it to the sliding door, pulling it open and fleeing into the night. He ran until he reached the fence of the beach, and looked over his shoulder, only half surprised that no one followed. None of his siblings had been around to hear that fight._

 

 _He jumped the fence for the second time that night. It was hot and muggy, the air coated his lungs. All the stars in the ocean were gone, wiped away by the clouds since he was last here. Thunder rumbled. h_ _e looked up as the first drop fell, and it landed on his face. He let the rain cover him in a shroud, and soak his clothes._

 

_In the distance, through the rain, red and blue flashed. The lights bloomed in the hot mist on the moonless night, so bright Lance could see it from the beach. He shouldn’t have broken the rules. His freedom, his adventure, it had too high a price. The damp air carried the scent of salt, and nothing else. Lance breathed deep, and watched the curling mist rise from the cooling sand, until it dissipated into the dark sky, just like him._

 

_They would find her, he was certain. He made a promise to himself, one that would be broken on this same beach, under the hot sun._

 

Lance fell into robotic retelling. Only his tears broke the facade. Inside he was a building storm, and Keith tried his best to sooth it. Everyone in the room remained silent, afraid that speaking would break the spell that gave Lance the strength to speak. Even if the truth was that it was probably the alcohol, but even that was quickly fading. “We didn’t find her that night, and a week passed.”

 

_The long grain carpet was rough beneath his bare feet, its original color lost to time and traffic. The metal bar that ended the hallway and began the bedroom was cold where it pressed into the skin of his arches._

_Lance stood in the doorway._

_Nothing had changed. The air vibrated with the anticipation of her to returned this room, her room. Everything was exactly as she had left it, a beacon of hope that they would find her. It was comforting for Lance, who was currently living in a mist of hot panic and watery anxiety. He could feel every inch of his body. He was trapped, in meat, bone, and fibrous nerves. It was his prison, and his only portal to the outside._

 

_Without his hands, he couldn’t touch every brush on Maritza’s vanity, and every nail polish on her dresser. Soft bristles, and smooth glass. Without his nose, he couldn’t smell her perfume, her hair spray, or the powder she used on her face. Without Maritza, he couldn’t hear her soft humming with his useless ears._

 

_Lance just wanted to see her._

 

_Three days ago he had jumped a fence, exhilarated and free. He stood in the ocean, under the moon, and knew his sister would understand. And while Lance had thought of her with certainty, she vanished._

 

_“Mijo,” his mamá called. Her voice was fragile and distant._

 

_She stood down the hall, but didn’t approach. The bedroom wasn’t a comfort for her, but a painful reminder, and so was he. Lance ignored her. He thought no one could blame him more than he blamed himself, until he had looked in is mamá’s eyes. She would never say it, and clung to dwindling hope, but his uncle had screamed it, then gone silence, and remained silent ever since._

 

“During that week no one in my family spoke more than a few words to me, and my Uncle pretended I didn’t exist.” Lance braced himself for the next part, the worst day of his life. “On the seventh day, Maritza was found.”

 

_Dawn crept in with little conviction. The sun was already baking the sand, and a wave of clouds crept up, ready to hold the heat in. The humidity formed a film on Lance’s mind while he stood on the beach like he had everyday that week. It was day seven since Ritza vanished. The police had Benny in custody, they had found his sister’s phone, and he was the last person she had spoken to._

 

_He might confess to what he did at any moment. Any second the police could arrive, and he might have his sister back. Benny could have locked her in a basement, or a shed… Lance hoped. He watched the ocean fade into the humid mist. The higher the sun rose, the more he could see, but the clouds were coming fast, ready to hide it all away again._

 

 _Lance looked to his left at the rapidly approaching storm,_ _a field of grey bowing down to the ground._ _Thunder clapped, a warning to move aside, but Lance ignored it. He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to be home when the police came. But even from this distance, he was forced to endure the inevitable._

 

 _When the Police arrived, and his Mama’s scream rent the air apart, It struck him, like a knife that slashed against his heart. A sobbing sound of anguish, and muffled yells in the distance from his house. The sun was almost at its peak, and the storm practically on top of Lance. He_ _looked up as the sky cracked, and denied the truth, even as it pour down like a cold awakening. Thunder rolled with his scream, and the rain came down in sheets. It fell with his tears, and he let it soak into his clothes. His skin became numb from standing in it, and he imagined his body fading away into the mist that it created with the hot sand._

 

_Pain like this isn't expressed in screams. It’s to big. The sound can't fit through his mouth, and his lungs aren't strong enough to push it out. So he choked. He gagged on a keening whine, and tried to breathe, but it couldn’t get around the tortured sound trapped in his body. The sand was in flames, and his feet were on fire. He imagined hitting the sun warmed beach, and evaporating. But his body remained solid. On his hands and knees he made his despair known to the sand._

“It was Benny,” Lance revealed, hiding his tear streaked face, and then he elaborated in a small voice. “Maritza had gone to see him. He had started bothering her again, or I guess he never stopped. After she ran from him, she couldn’t find me and went looking. He snatched her between the arcade and the beach. She was out there because of me, she knew where I had snuck off too, and if I hadn’t left the arcade she might be alive.” He admitted. He was the missing piece that crumbled the tower of events that night. “I haven’t spoken to my uncle since Ritza went missing, and my relationship with my mom was never the same. She focused on Arlo and the twins, and I worked hard at school to get away.” Lance looked up from the floor, and at his friends for the first time since he started talking. He didn’t bother to hide his red eyes, and looked at Hunk, offering a small teary smirk. “I enlisted Hunk in my grand scheme to escape. eventually we both applied to the Garrison highschool, and transferred when I was sixteen. Until then, no one really bothered me, or cared where I was. My siblings checked in, but that was it,” he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but he couldn’t hide the pain from Keith. The warm hand in his shifted, and Keith used his thumb to rub small circles in Lance’s palm.

Keith didn’t blame Lance, not even for a moment. His belief in Lance didn't even waver. Now Lance waited for the condemnation from the others. Maybe a dirty look from Pidge, disgust from Coran, or a disappointed dad face from Shiro. He couldn’t look away from Hunk, the only person in the room aside of Keith that Lance knew would accept him. Hunk held his eyes, supportive and caring.

The silence dug deep into Lance’s heart, gouging a bloody pocket for the pain he feared was coming.

Surprisingly, it was Shiro that spoke up first. His voice was soft, but in the dead silence it was loud. “You didn’t know what to do with all your guilt, did you?” He asked, rhetorically.

Lance’s gaze dragged across the room, drawn to Shiro by pure astonishment. There wasn’t a trace of disappointment on his face. He looked younger, softer, and a little lost. But his lips tried to form a smile, and it was little broken, like a limb bent in the wrong direction, and he continued explaining.  “When you have so much guilt, and you don’t know where to direct it, you lash out, and spend time trying to act like you aren't guilty. You pretend to be something you’re not, and do more things you regret, because your afraid of repeating your mistakes.” Shiro’s eyes drifted to Keith, and this time Keith looked back.

It might have been the completely vulnerable expression Shrio wore, or the quickly mounting understanding in Lance, but either way, something clicked. Like a fluorescent light, black flickered in Lance, and then remained. He wasn’t sure who bonded with Shiro, him or Keith, possibly both. But he was there, large, and imposing, but also reliable and protective. His dark shield arched over Lance’s ocean, and Keith’s angry, rising fire.  

Shiro looked between them and in them, at the flaming sea, and the powerful creature Keith became in Lance’s waters. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

Lance looked at the strong shield Shiro used to protect his loved ones, and traced every crack. He was battered, and beaten, and it was just as much on the inside as the outside. The familiar fissures of self loathing matched the ones in Lance. Allura understood guilt, but Shiro understood making a single, irreversible mistake. He had left, just like Lance left the arcade, and the person he left behind paid the price. Keith suffered, Maritza died, and Shiro and Lance never learned to cope.

 

Lance was starting to understand...

 

“This doesn’t make it OK,” Keith insisted, but the edges of his words were dull, even while the blade was solid.

 

Lance tightened his grip on Keith’s hand. “He knows,” he whispered, and beckoned Keith’s with their bond, meeting his gaze. _“Just like I know,”_ he pressed the cool, blue concept directly against Keith’s anger.

 

Shiro heard it too. The sharp breath confirmed it. Then a crack resounded through the bond, and Shiro’s shield retracted.

 

“It’s not the same!” Keith barked. His will was a wild blaze, and it roared against Lance’s implications.

 

“It’s similar, Keith,” Lance insisted.

 

“No…” Keith whispered. “It’s not the same. I’m not dead, and Shiro... he never really accepted me after, and he threw it back at me!” His argument rose with his volume.

 

Lance knew Keith’s anger was valid, but it was also raging out of control. He didn't want Keith to let it go, but he also didn’t want double standards. Lance restored to raising his voice, almost yelling in order to cut through Keith’s stubborn walls. “And he knows it was wrong, Keith! That doesn't make it better, and you don’t have to forgive him, and I'm not sure you should, but he knows he messed up!” Lance grabbed Keith’s upper arms and shook him lightly, bearing down on his own pain as he forced the next words out. “And if my sister had survived, I don't know how I would have handled it either! The only difference is that Maritza wasn’t around to see me coping poorly. She wasn’t there for me to lash out at! And I think I would have!”

 

Lance paused, still holding Keith, but his emotions broke free and were bared to Keith. He took a broken breath. “I think… I know, I would have lashed out at her. I wasn’t dealing deal with the guilt, and I was angry. But she died, and instead I attacked my family just as much as I attacked myself. Other than my Uncle, the rest of my family left me alone, partly because I was unbearable. Sometimes I get so mad at Ritza, because she left me alone.” The confessions was difficult, it was something Lance lied to himself about. It was easier than admitting the truth, that sometimes, he blamed Maritza. She shouldn’t have met with Benny, she should have stayed with Lance, gone to the beach with him. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but it was difficult not to be angry with her. Instead Lance doubled down on his self hatred, but that wasn’t the answer.

 

Keith’s anger stopped in the face of Lance’s confession, and the tangle of conflicting emotions. He grabbed Lance’s forearms and squeezed. “It Benny’s fault,” he pushed.

 

Lance nodded slowly. He didn't realize how much he needed to hear that from Keith in particular. But only blaming Benny wasn’t the answer either. Lance let his hands slid off Keith, and told him the only thing that made sense. “I know it’s Benny's fault, it really is. but I can’t stop thinking that one small difference could have stopped him, if I hadn’t left, or she hadn’t answered the phone... Bad things don’t just form from nothing!”

 

“But there is a difference between taking responsibility for mistakes, and taking all the blame!” Keith railed against Lance’s guilt, obsitant to a fault.

 

“EXACTLY!” Lance shouted back. Their emotions slotted together, quieting Keith. “Shiro fucked up, he tried to control you and your choices, to prevent another situation like before, and that was wrong. But I assume you never talked about what happened either, and you should, because still have your brother,” Lance tentatively nudged the topic. Keith’s first reaction was to get angry again, but it quickly faded into irritated resentment, and that confirmed Lance’s suspicion.

 

Out of the long silence that followed, Hunk emerged, brave enough to speak up. “We can’t control people,  we only have so much information, and so many choices at any given moment, and we do the best we can. But it goes both ways, you gotta take what's offered.” He gave Lance a significant look. It held all the weight of years and years of Hunk trying to get Lance to talk.

 

The same irritated resentment rose up in Lance, and he was rewarded with Keith’s smug satisfaction, but he rose above it and agreed with Hunk. ”Yeah, you’re right buddy.” Lance looked at Shrio, and passed him the proverbial significant-look-of-shame.

 

Shiro dropped his head, accepting, but he looked up from under his bangs, and smiled at Lance. It wasn’t completely broken, and it was a little thankful.

 

A silent understanded formed, and Keith and Lance’s emotions aligned. It wasn’t perfect, but they would work things out, together.

 

The soft moment was interrupted by Coran. “Evils not made in a vacuum. As my great grandfather used to-”

 

“Wait! Did Shiro just bond with them too?! This is so not fair!” Pidge hollered, irate. They looked around at the group in question, finally putting together what had just happened.

 

Shiro wedged himself into the crack in the heavy conversation. “I think we should call it a night, we have to regroup tomorrow for plan B,” he asserted, taking the leader role from an obviously worn out Lance.   


Nobody moved. The role of leader was still a little delicate, and new relationships shook up the balance. Then Keith stood up, and looked Shiro directly in the eye. He didn’t smile, and a tight heat pulled on Lance through their bond, but he nodded. “Shiro’s right,” he agreed. There was no forgiveness, but it was a start.

 

Allura stood, and Coran shifted, ready to begin cleaning up, but the majority of the room -including Keith- looked at Lance. He sighed, lamenting his unwanted authority, and nodded

 

Pidge grumbled, but didn’t push the bonding topic. Everyone began standing, and stretching. Shiro tucked a tired, and emotionally drain Allura under his arm. Lance took Keith’s hand and watched his friends file out. Each one looked at him and Keith as they passed. Some with reassuring eyes, others thankful, but all of them were genuine. Lance tried to store those looks away, for later when he would doubt, and worry. He had to remember this moment.

 

Ooo

 

Lance collapsed, inside and out. His body crumpled onto the bed, as his chest caved in. He rolled onto his back, allowing his hollowed out body to sink into his mattress. The enormity of what he had just done, the things he had admitted, filled the cavern of his chest with uncomfortable feelings. He bared himself to his friends, and it left him doubting and guilty. He felt like a liar, after all the years of pretending it felt wrong to he honest. This was exactly how he felt after coming out to Keith, only multiplied by every person he confessed to. The freedom he had experienced paled in comparison to this discomfort.

 

The conversation had been full of revelations, to many to properly absorb, it was a mess, but it was over, for now. They would probably revisit see topics later, when they escaped this planet maybe, and Lance wasn't looking forward to it.

 

The bed dipped, slow and soft. Keith climbed over Lance, and settled down straddling his hips. His pale hands slid up and under Lance’s shirt, and he pressed his palms to Lance’s chest. It was saturated with with anxiety, and Keith’s hands pressed it out. It dripped from his heart, and curled into his stomach, then unfurled into uneasy tendrils that snaked through him, down to his toes.

 

Lance stretched into the bond, reaching for Keith, looking for commiseration. But he met with calm ribbons that wrapped around his anxiety, binding it.

 

“Aren't you scared?” Lance whispered, confused.

 

Keith leaned down, brushing the tip his of nose over Lance’s cheek. “Of what?” He whispered back.

 

Lance’s eyes slid closed, and he shared a breath with Keith. “Of everything our friends found out today?” he asked, suddenly unsure of how rational his feelings were.

 

Keith softly kissed Lance’s neck, muddling his thought further. He sighed against Lance’s skin and leaned back enough to look him in the eyes. “They seemed to take everything well enough, even Shiro.” He shrugged and tried to kiss Lance, but a hand on his face stopped him.

 

“But we left everything so opened ended. No one got to really talk about it. Plus Shiro and you didn’t-”

 

Keith shoved the hand away and pressed a hard kiss you Lance’s mouth.

 

Lance turned his head, freeling his lips. “And I butted into your and Shiro’s business! Why aren't you mad abo-”

 

Keith trapped Lance’s face between his hands, and kissed him again. When the kiss broke, Lance opened his mouth to speak, but Keith cut him off. “It’s fine that it’s open ended, Lance. What were they going to say that they didn’t already tell us? They either understand, or they don’t, they accept us, or they don’t. The type of shit we went through isn’t something you can explain, and people that didn’t experience it will always be a degree separated from us, but they can still love us. Just like we love them, even though we can’t completely understand their pain.”

 

Keith tried to kiss Lance again, but was blocked once more by a hand over his mouth.

 

“But-” Lance attempted to argue, a tangled of turmoil still brewed in their bond, broadcasting Lance’s concerns without words.

 

Keith grabbed the hand over his mouth and pulled it away, pinning it to the bed. “No, nothing is wrong. They don’t think you’re a murder, and they don’t think I’m a whore, or whatever other conclusions they could draw from today's mission,” he insisted.

 

Lance didn’t even make a sound, but the next wave of worries flowed into Keith, and he tackled them as they came. “Yes, I will talk to the team about my… history, someday. And yes, I will talk to Shiro… also someday,” he grumbled, only half committing.

 

Keith leaned in again, and was an inch from Lance’s lips when he was stopped short by the word, “But-” which was filled with doubt, that Keith couldn’t ignore. He diverted his lips path, and pressed his face into the pillow over Lance’s shoulder, letting his body lay flush against Lance’s.

 

Keith released a long sigh. “I’m not mad that you butted into the thing with Shiro… honestly, I might have never talked to him if you hadn't. And no, I haven't decided if there's a chance I will forgive him.”  He sat all the way up, and look down at Lance, who couldn’t meet his eyes. The creeping tendrils of fear and doubt were fewer, but they still wriggled through Lance. Keith smiled, sad and fond. “Ace,” he beckoned Lance to look at him.

 

Slowly Lance turned his head and looked up at Keith. He was embarrassed by his rampaging anxiety, and it colored his cheeks. Keith slipped his hands back under Lance’s shirt, and ran them up his quivering stomach, and over his nipples. Lance’s breath hitched, and he felt Keith push his love and support down the bond, and it was lined with desire. Keith wanted make him feel good, and wipe away his worries, It rang clear in his intentions.

 

Keith covered Lance’s body with his own, and kissed him softly. He slowly pressed his hips into Lance’s, grinding against him agonizingly slowly. A hot burst of pleasure rippled up from Lance’s groin, pushing his uneasy tendrils back. He gasped, breaking the kiss. Keith dragged his smiled across Lance’s cheek, and to his ear. “Let me take care of you,” he demanded quiet and caring. It sent a feeling through Lance he couldn’t describe. Keith’s love flooded his body, inhabiting every corner. It was just as encompassing as the night before, but it was gentler, almost healing.

Lance moaned and pushed his hips up. Keith was kissing his neck, pulling the collar of his shirt aside, and loving the mark he had left there. His other hand snaked between them, and undid Lance’s fly. Every bit of Keith’s mind was filled with Lance’s pleasure, completely focused on his needs. He sat up, and pulled his shirt over his head, then leaned over and grabbed their lube from the bedside table.

 

Lance ran his hands over Keith stomach, trembling under their combined sensations. He trailed his fingers down and along the edge of Keith’s pants before undoing them. Keith rose to his knees, and Lance pulled down, taking the boxers with the jeans, freeing Keith’s erection.

 

Keith moved away before Lance could touch him, and removed his pants, lifting one knee and a time. He settled back astride Lance’s hips, completely naked.

 

Lance looked up at him, and loved him even more.

 

Keith smirked, and pressed down on Lance’s boxer covered length, drawing out a gasping moan. At the same time, while Lance was distracted, he oured some lube into one hand, and slicked his fingers. Keith scooted back to Lance’s thighs, and pulled Lance's pants down just enough to free him.

 

Lance watched in awe as Keith gave him everything, exposed every vulnerable inch of himself. With one hand he grasped Lance’s erection, slowly driving Lance mad with his measured pumps. With his other hand he reached back and opened himself.

 

One slow finger at a time. Keith moaned as he worked, rubbing himself on Lance, driving them both crazy.

 

Lance wanted to touch more of Keith, but his hands were slapped away. He grabbed Keith’s hips instead, arching back into the bed. Finally Keith pull his slick fingers out, and grabbed the lube bottle, adding more to his hand. He coated Lance, still holding him in one hand, and moved up, lifting himself onto his knees.

 

Teasingly, Keith lowered himself, rubbing his entrance against Lance’s head. He held Lance’s hips down and made small circles with his own hips, pushing a little harder with each pass. Slowly he finished stretching himself, and Lance slipped past the ring of muscle.

 

The searing lighting bolt of pleasure lifted Lance’s back off the bed, and he reveled in its echo between them. “Babe!” he gasped, and tightened his grip on Keith’s hips.

 

Keith’s took a breath, trying to stay in control, but Lance was giving into their pleasure with abandon. He lifted himself up until Lance’s cock was almost free, and slid back down, taking all of Lance.

 

“Ah!” Lance almost yelped, overwhelmed by sensation.

 

Keith tried to set an even rhythm, riding Lance slowly. But they were both losing themselves quickly. Lance’s grip on Keith was almost bruising, and he lifted his hips to meet each decent. Keith cascaded over Lance, a red inferno, and Lance gave in. he gripped Keith’s hips even harder and thrust up, he put all his fear and doubts into it, and let then drown in Keith.

 

“AAH!” Keith yelled, half surprised, and half pleased.

 

Lance was unrelenting, moving faster than Keith could keep up while on top. So he gripped Lance’s forearms for balance, and let Lance hold him still by the hips, thrusting up into him.

 

“Ace! Oh god!” Keith’s head fell back, and his mouth hung open.

 

Lance put all his frustration into wrecking Keith, and loved how much Keith was loving it. He let go of Keith’s hips with one hand and grabbed his erection. The moment he wrapped his hand around it, Keith lost it. “Lance!” he screamed as he came first, bringing Lance right to the edge.

 

While the orgasim still rolled through Keith, Lance flipped them over, grabbed Keith’s hips, and finished himself with a few hard thrust, wrapping their orgasims together, and drawing them out. He pressed into Keith completely, and rocked his hips, as they rode out their blinding pleasure.

 

Keith was realing as his orgasim ended and Lance’s slammed into him. “Holy hell!” he gasped.

 

Lance collapsed onto Keith when it was over. Both of them panting and sticky. Lance buried his face into Keith’s neck and breathed him in.

 

“I was supposed to take care of you,” Keith laughed lightly.

 

Lance smiled into Keith neck, and began trying to kick his pants all the way off. “No, Rojo. This was exactly what I needed,” he reassured.

 

Keith pushed against Lance as he struggled. “Sit up,” he complained.

 

Lance gave up undressing and let his full weight fall on Keith. “I can’t, you killed me.”

 

“Lance!” Keith managed to roll Lance to the side and sat up. He shook his head and sighed.

 

Lance smiled as Keith began helping him undress. “You’re lucky I love you,” He grumbled as he pulled Lance’s pants all the way off, and moved to his shirt.

 

“I am!” Lance agreed, completely coated in fluffy feelings and also spent..

 

Keith glowered down at him, but his mouth twitched with a forming smile. He kept up his irritated pretence and slid off the bed. “I’m gonna get a wet cloth.”

 

oOoOo

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT time on Dragon Ball Z- PLAN B to get off the planet! Maybe we will get a peek into the mysterious Yeppeo Six? Or learn more about Saeg, or Vii? Is there something deeper to Keith and Lance’s bond than what Coran explained?! STAY TUNED for someday when I update, but it will definitely happen I promise!
> 
> Come be weird with me at deetsvibre.tumblr.com


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